Tomorrow's Doom
by Helbereth
Summary: Aiko Kurai, class-rep for room 3-1 at Yamaku Academy, is a geeky math-whiz, a sarcastic meddler and tends to over-think things. Plagued by a dark past, she knows her future is marred by a certain doom, but tries to live in the present. Following her father's footsteps in more ways than one, can she live without regrets?
1. Chapter 1 Curiosity

**Act 1: Resonance**

**Chapter 1 – Curiosity**

The Yamaku Festival looms; I can't help but feel dread at the thought. Lying in bed is my only refuge for now. In a few short minutes, I'll have to get up, get dressed, and put on a smile as I'm bombarded with questions about -well- festival stuff. Being my class' representative may have been a bad idea; I regret it, but I also enjoy it. The idea that I have the final say on what we do with our booth is empowering – if a little empty.

Sighing, I lift my head off the pillow, but not to get up; I'm not nearly awake enough to be standing up yet. Instead, I look down at my feet sticking out of the covers and smile. Painting my toes late last night on a whim was probably not my best idea, but they look to have dried right. One less thing to worry about for the festival. Of course, I had some extra time considering that I couldn't fall asleep. Still three days out from the festival and I'm already worked up. Insomnia on top of extra work and late nights? Murphy's Law in practice. It might just be bitter irony, though.

_Maybe I'll resign after this. I could use the rest._

Amaya wouldn't let me, though. After all I put her through helping me get the position, she has just as much stake in my continued representation as myself. Lying back, I try closing my eyes even though it's futile. My alarm will start going off in less than a minute, I'm sure. Still, as the morning light filters in through the curtains, I can't help but feel a little excited. As hectic as this week has been -will be- I'm ready for the challenge. As I'm planning to become a CPA, all this grunt work juggling budgets and dealing with my subordinates clerical errors will probably be good practice.

Just as I thought, the alarm starts playing a jarring pop song I don't recognize; nor do I want to recognize. It's officially time for me to get out of bed and start another day of boring classes and paper work. Having already been awake for the last half hour, I'm already alert enough to leap out of bed and grab my glasses from the dresser. Sitting down on my desk chair to check myself over in the mirror, I grin at the narrow, white stripe running from my temple and down to the tip of my wavy hair.

Mom yelled at me initially, saying it was unbecoming of a lady, but when I explained my logical reason, she calmed down. Being deaf in one ear, I can still hear pretty well -clearly, even- from the other side. However, when people try talking to me on my left side, I barely hear them most of the time. The stripe helps them realize why I'm ignoring them, and I don't get tapped on the shoulder quite so often.

_Or have my hair pulled, or other more rude gestures._

Running a brush through my hair to get some of the tangles out, I grab my uniform and head out of my little room toward the showers. Having not gotten enough sleep last night, what with the insomnia and waking before the alarm, one might think I'd be fatigued, but I'm used to getting little sleep. Though, I'm not sure if I should be proud of that or not.

The girls dorm is usually pretty empty this early, so I'm not surprised when nobody's out in the halls. Of course, not everyone sleeps late. As I get closer to the corner leading to the showers, I hear the distinctive bouncy squeak from Emi's running spikes. Deciding to be cautious, I call ahead of me, "Morning Emi, enjoy the run?"

The bouncing slows a bit and, a few seconds later, the perky little double-amputee comes around the corner beaming a smile that could stop traffic. "Heya Aiko, gettin' an early start?" She's dressed in her track uniform as expected, girly twin-tails bouncing over her youthful features.

Nodding, I notice she looks particularly happy about something. "You seem happier than normal," I comment, smiling faintly.

She blushes and giggles airily. "Really?" she inquires, placing a finger on her chin. Bouncing in place on her prosthetic running spikes, she shrugs and explains, "I had a good morning, I guess."

Realizing there's something she's not telling me, but figuring she'd avoid the question, I decide to let the subject drop. Moving to walk around her, I smile cordially, but she catches my arm as I pass by and leans in, cupping her hand over my ear like a schoolgirl with a secret. "The new guy's gonna be running with me," she whispers, smiling wistfully.

_New guy? I don't remember there being any new guy in school._

The giggle she lets out as she releases her grip and leans back to continue her bouncing sounds innocent and devious at the same time. Not knowing Emi particularly well, even though we run into each other in the girl's dorm on most mornings, I don't know what to make of her giddiness. We haven't said much more than "Good Morning" to each other in the past two years; barring a few late-night conversations in the common room. Why she's deciding to open up and tell me about some boy she's crushing on is confusing at the very least.

Choosing not to go down that line of questioning -we barely know each other- I choose to ask, "new guy?"

She leans against the wall with her arms folded behind her and nods. "Hisao Nakai. He started Monday. Tall, skinny, kinda grumpy-looking," she describes.

Unfortunately, I'm at a loss. "I haven't seen him, I guess," I reply with a shrug.

"He's in 3-3, with Mutou," she states.

Blinking at the new information, I still don't know who she's talking about. "Well I'm in 3-1, so no wonder," looking away as I talk, I glance toward the bathroom, but this conversation isn't over for Emi.

"I kinda... bumped into him yesterday..." she says tentatively. Looking away to hide her guilty expression, she adds "he wasn't mad, but I got reamed by Deaf-charge."

Hearing that nickname makes me grin. Our Class President, Shizune Hakamichi, is well-known for being a bit overbearing and zealous. Some of the students had given her that nickname, but it was never used in earshot – not that she'd hear it used. I actually disagree with the nickname, thinking it unfair, but decide not to say anything about that to Emi. "Well you were probably running in the halls again if you hit him hard enough to draw her ire," I say, surprising myself.

_Ire? Did I just say that? I should stop sitting near the literature club. Too bad they're my best friends._

Emi frowns and starts swinging her arms, staring at me with puppy-dog eyes. "Yeah, well. He forgave me," she smiles brightly and stops waving. Instead, she makes playful fists in front of her face, grinning wickedly, "Nurse told me to keep an eye on him, too."

That catches my attention, "Why? Is he an invalid or something?"

Emi just smiles and starts bouncing on her spikes again. "No, but he's new and kinda grumpy about it, so he wanted me to try and help get his spirits up. He suggested running," she explains.

_Or you suggested running._

Aside from where the idea may have come from, everything about that made sense, so I just nod sagely and start toward the showers. Looking back, I see Emi headed down the hall again, though much more slowly - dreamily, maybe. I consider saying something else, but Emi's too far away to really hear me, and I don't know what I'd say.

Later today I have to visit room 3-3 to coordinate with Shizune, so maybe I'll see this new guy for myself. If he's got Emi flustered, he might not be bad on the eyes – or he might be barely five feet tall. Maybe he's missing his legs like her, or he lost his arms in a train accident like that art chick, Rin, in 3-4. Well, okay, she was born without arms, but he would have been sent here sooner if he had lost his arms that early in life.

_Why am I so curious?_

Pushing through the door, I quickly get the water running and leap under the cold stream. It has the desired effect of both revitalizing me and pushing the inner monologue away. I have more important things to be concerned about than some new boy in school.

Meeting Amaya down in the common room, we start walking across campus to the main building. She looks a little out of it, leaning forward with her hands wrapped around the straps of her backpack, a forlorn expression on her round face. "You're quiet this-morning," I say, trying not to yawn.

She looks at me sleepily and shrugs, "couldn't sleep."

"Ah. Me neither," I mention. Grinning, I continue, "got my toes painted, though." I lift my feet as though she could magically see through my shoes.

"I was gonna do that!" she balks, but, with eyes half-closed, her frustration seems much less sincere.

"Well I had to do something to try and wear myself down so I could get some sleep," I explain, offering a sincere shrug. Looking up at me, she shrugs and lets out a yawn.

The conversation ends at that. Neither of us has the energy to bother with something so frivolous. The walk through the school is equally quiet. Most of the students, and the teachers, are shuffling through the halls like zombies. Festival week has this effect every year.

Walking into the classroom, I take my seat by the window and Amaya sits behind me, practically falling into her chair and immediately dropping her head on the desk. The cold shower seems to have a lasting effect as I'm much more alert when Ito-sensei makes his grand entrance.

Ito flops his briefcase down on his desk and draws a towel across his sweaty brow, heaving a frustrated sigh. We don't expect him to be jovial or even friendly, but the look on his face today is somewhere between angry and constipated – maybe both. He casts a disapproving gaze across the room and I reflexively bump the desk behind me with my elbow, trying to save Amaya from being caught with her head down; hearing her shuffle just in time.

Frowning, Ito starts digging into the briefcase. Drawing out a stack of papers, yesterday's pop-quiz, he starts passing them around the room in silence. His cheap suit doesn't do a very good job hiding his ever-expanding gut, and I swear I can see the seams stretching as he walks between the desks. When he hands my quiz back, I catch the hint of a smile, but he forces it away to keep up appearances. He smells like he left without a shower this-morning.

"You're all going to have to work harder if you expect to pass the real thing," he says flatly as he makes his way back to his desk, huffing and puffing. Looking like he might keel over, he leans against the desk and crosses his arms to wait while we flip through our tests. Hearing Amaya quietly cursing behind me, I wonder if she'll finally take me up on the offer to study with her some nights.

The test on my desk is decidedly better off than the rest of the class. Math is my best subject, though, so I'm not really surprised. I had missed a few answers, so I knew I still had room to improve, but the amount of red marking I can see on my classmates papers is staggering. Calculus is something people either understand or don't. Apparently I do. Hearing Amaya groan behind me, I can't help but grin.

Amaya's pleading tone comes in a whisper, "you have to help me with this stuff."

Leaning back, I whisper, "all you had to do was ask."

A few minutes pass as Ito waits for everyone to start looking his way. Once most of the class has turned back toward him, he offers some consolation, "I know you can all learn this material, I have faith." Standing, he steps over to the board, his suit-coat wrinkled and matted to his backside, and starts writing out equations.

The rest of the class consists of lecturing and more equations. Ito is a bit of a mess, but he genuinely wants his students to understand the material, or at least retain enough to pass the necessary tests. He usually avoids calling me to the board because he doesn't want to hold anyone on a pedestal, and he knows I already understand the material. Taking that advantage, I let my mind wander. Strangely, I find myself thinking about Emi's new boy-toy.

It's a curious thing for someone to start at Yamaku as a third-year, and already a few months into the school year. My mind whirls with possibilities as I consider how this new guy, Hisao Nakai -what kind of name is that, anyway?- found himself here at Yamaku Academy. Whatever sent him here, it probably happened recently. Trying to recall newspaper articles or TV news stories I've seen recently, I wonder if he might have been in a car wreck, a building collapse, or a fire. Though, it could have been in a totally different part of Japan. Perhaps he lost a hand like the new girl, Miura, or he was diagnosed with some life-threatening disease, or maybe he just developed mutant powers.

_Ok, that last one is a stretch._

Ito continues to carefully relate the material, while I carefully consider just how far my curiosity goes. Far enough, it seems, that my wandering eyes have turned me away from the front of the class.

"Kurai. Can you come help Miss Yamada solve this equation?" Ito's asks, breaking me out of my reverie.

Spurned by my inattentiveness, I leap out of my chair faster than I should. Wobbling a little with a slight dizzy spell, I make my way toward the board, trying to maintain my balance and read the equation, and ignoring a few murmuring laughs from the back row. In front of the board, shuffling on her feet and holding the chalk out to me like a gift, Naoko watches me with a sheepish grin. [Thanks,] I sign to her as I approach.

Sidling out of the way, Naoko continues shuffling back and forth and bearing that sheepish grin. Sixteen pairs of eyes seem to be burning a hole in the back of my blouse as I lift the chalk and scrawl the answer in place. Glancing at Ito, I offer a nod and then hand the chalk back to Naoko.

Leaning to the side, Ito checks my answer and then nods. "Thank you, Miss Kurai," he says with a half-smile, "Miss Yamada, you may both sit back down."

Naoko offers a slight bow and I smile in response. As we both head for our respective desks, I can't help but feel a little like the teacher's pet. My classmates eyes are still on the board, though, so they don't seem to be having that same thought. Except Jun, who's watching me intently with a disdainful expression as I take my seat.

_No big surprise, there._

Returning to my seat, I remember I need to see Shizune about the financial reports. I could even get two birds with one stone if Nakai is still there. If he were horribly burned, lost any limbs or something obvious, it would quickly sate my curiosity and I could stop being so distracted. Then again, if it's something less obvious, I might be making myself even more distracted by finding out.

Amaya pokes my shoulder and whispers, "where's your head at, Aiko? Ito had to call you twice."

_Twice? Was I that lost in thought?_

I resist turning to answer, instead waving over my shoulder as if to say, "don't bother."

She seems to accept the answer. Knowing I already have a lot on my mind with the festival preparations, she probably figures it's just that; It wouldn't really be far off, either. This business about the new guy is just a curiosity. A distraction I need to deal with so I can focus on the preparations for Sunday. Shizune will have me in a noose if I don't get those reports finished.

_I might need help, though._

Glancing over my shoulder, I peek at Amaya and ponder whether I should ask her. With her eyes locked on the board, she furiously writes down the equations Ito keeps writing and erasing. They're all the same ones that were on the test, I realize, but Amaya doesn't seem to see the similarities. Watching her being studious is a bit rare, and she looks like she's actually starting to understand, so I'd feel bad asking her to help. Looking to her right, I consider asking Tadao for help, but he's supposed to be working on constructing our class' booth later.

_Maybe I can ask Shizune for help?_

Worst case scenario, I get a mouthful from Misha courtesy of her puppeteer about setting time aside before the deadline looms; though I can conveniently turn and avoid the brunt of Misha's audio assault. Shizune has a lot going on, though, and would probably have to rope someone else into helping. I wouldn't wish that on anyone, but it might be my only option. She needs those inventory reports by tomorrow morning so she can make the orders, and I just don't have enough time.

In many ways, I feel like I haven't actually decided anything. As though the idea of asking Shizune for help and getting some poor sap involved were the inevitable result of my procrastination.

Lunchtime comes and goes, Amaya and I staying in the class with Tadao to eat and go over some of the equations they're still having trouble understanding. I'm actually surprised there aren't a million festival questions being levied at me, but Ito's morning lecture probably had something to do with that.

Later, in English class, Amaya and Tadao flex their literary minds for a group assignment that leaves my head spinning. It's humbling to get a top score in one class and then be completely baffled by the next – I just don't get English, I guess. After that, the day crawls by and everyone starts looking restless. Staring at the clock, looking out the windows, or examining the wood grain of their desks seem to be the most common activities.

Finally the bell rings, and we start shuffling out into the halls. Amaya walks with me, but isn't expecting me to veer off toward 3-3. Sounding frustrated, she calls after me, "where are you going?"

"I have some class rep stuff to discuss with Shizune," I answer, drawing a groan from my skinny friend.

Spinning around to regard her, I see she's dragging her feet. "I dunno how you get along with her," she comments, sighing heavily. Placing her hands on her hips mockingly, she complains, "she's so bossy."

Turning back toward 3-3, I mention, "I'll probably be back late, so don't wait up."

Amaya takes the hint, realizing I'm saying she doesn't need to come along, and walks in the other direction. She's a little too scattered to hold up in a conversation with Shizune, and I'm letting her avoid the ordeal.

As I near the classroom, I see Mutou-sensei walking toward me. He offers a nod as I pass by, not being much for words. He's used to seeing me headed for his classroom after school to talk with Shizune.

Arriving at the door, I suddenly stop myself from pushing through. Realizing there's probably something different waiting on the other side -the new guy - I want to be alert. Assuming he hasn't left yet, he's likely still in there, and my imagination gets a little carried away. His face is probably torn and battered, and he's missing both feet. Maybe he's drooling on himself and talks with a lisp, or he's in a robotic wheelchair and talks through a computer.

Pushing the images out of my head, I lean against the door and it slowly gives way. Stopping again when I've fully entered the room, I can't help but send my curious gaze scouting for the horrible, broken mass of twisted flesh wrapped in alcohol-soaked gauze and twitching. Not finding anything quite so gruesom, I scan around the half-empty room and lock onto an unfamiliar face.

_That must be him._

Trying not to stare, I notice he's looking at his notes pretty intently with his eyes narrowed. His hair is light brown and his eyes seem to be green – it's hard to tell with him looking down. He's very thin, almost emaciated, but that has to do with time spent in a hospital, I assume. Sitting down with his school blazer draped across the back of his chair, it's hard to tell how tall he is, but he's wiry.

He's wearing a dorky sweater-vest like Takashi, but it seems to suit him better. His tie is crooked and loose, and his pants are a little wrinkled, but he looks cleaner than most of the guys. There are no visible scars, no missing limbs, and no apparent super powers. I really have no idea what could have happened to him, but, If not for the glum expression on his face, he'd be approaching cute – handsome, even.

_He looks normal. How disappointing._

By now Shizune has noticed me, and she waves me over, an expectant look on her face. Frowning, I realize she might think I already have the reports finished. This is not going to be a fun conversation.

Misha starts talking almost immediately, even though she knows I can understand Shizune's signing perfectly, "Shicchan was expecting to see you today, Aiko-chan~!" Her explosive, lilting voice nearly causes me to stagger backward.

Deciding not to fill the room with any more unnecessary noise, I sign my response, [I've hit a bit of a snag, and I need a bit more time.]

Shizune narrows her eyes and starts signing furiously. Misha continues translating verbally, unabated, "You've had a week to figure out all the inventory needs, Aiko-chan~! You know I need to place those orders by tomorrow or it will be too late~!"

[I know. I tried. More stuff got piled on, and I've been missing sleep to try and get it done.] That was at least mostly true. I left out the part about having waited until Monday to even look over the reports. [I was hoping you might be able to help,] I request, offering a remorseful pout.

Shizune mulls this over for a moment before continuing to sign, which is dutifully translated by Misha, "we don't have enough people to spare." She stops as Shizune snaps her fingers like a thunderbolt. Misha continues translating, her eyes lighting up as she looks over my shoulder. "But~! We might be able to get someone to help you out. He's new, but he's been helpful so far," she says with a bright smile. My eyes widen a bit and I reflexively glance over at the new guy.

_They couldn't mean him, could they?_

Thinking about it for a few seconds, though, I can imagine Shizune has probably been trying to draw him into her little circle. I doubt he's taken to her blunt approach very well - unless he likes being dominated.

_Where did that thought come from?_

Shizune assumes a devious look with an equally dubious smile as she and Misha walk over to the new guy's desk; Misha gives him a tap on the shoulder, "Hicchan." Her tone and the nickname make me think this isn't their first meeting; as I had thought.

Nakai looks up from his notes grimly and breathes an expressionless reply, "Yes, Misha?" I'm not sure if he heard our conversation -how could he not hear Misha?- but the dour look he's giving her says he expects what she's about to ask.

Shizune signs and Misha translates. From his tendency to watch Misha rather than Shizune, I assume he isn't deaf, and he hasn't gotten used to these kinds of peripheral conversations. He doesn't look completely disinterested, though, which might be a good sign. "You said earlier that you weren't useless, Hicchan, and now you have a chance to prove it~!" Misha's lilt fills the room, but her beaming smile seems to fill him with dread.

He groans, apparently recalling some earlier altercation. Holding back a laugh, I observe him rolling his eyes, assuming a defensive posture with his arms folded. "I did say that, didn't I? I didn't think you'd be collecting so soon," he remarks.

Misha lets out her trademark laugh, "Wahaha~!" She continues translating for Shizune, "well, if you're going to join the Student Council," Nakai lifts a finger as if to protest, but she ignores the gesture, "you'll have to be willing to offer your assistance to other class representatives if the need should arise."

Squirming, I realize I'm about to become part of their sales pitch.

Shizune takes a step around behind me, which draws his attention in my direction. His glassy expression wanders over me as Misha continues her translation, "this is Aiko Kurai. She's the class rep for room 3-1, and she's in a bit of a bind." Offering a wave, I shift on my feet uncomfortably, feeling like I'm being auctioned off by a slave trader.

_Or maybe I'm the one who should be inspecting their slave?_

He puts on a smile and greets me in a warmer tone than he used to answer Misha, "Hi, Kurai. I'm Hisao Nakai. I just transferred in this week and these two are trying to turn me into an indentured servant." His reaction is a bit more melancholy than I hoped.

_Hoped? What exactly was I hoping for?_

I smile and laugh at his flippant reference to Shizune and Misha, but Shizune scowls and signs with voracity. Misha's translation loses a bit of the emotion though, "that's quite the attitude for a prospective member of the Student Council, Hicchan~! don't you want to help your school?"

He leans back in his chair and sighs, patting the air with his hand. "Fine, calm down. What does she need me to do?" he inquires.

The room is silent for a moment before I realize he's directing the question at me. Dumbfounded, I just stand there like a deer in the headlights.

_Why do I suddenly feel nervous?_

Misha answers based on Shizune's signs, saving me from the inquisition, "she has to balance the inventory for the festival booths, so we can place the orders before noon tomorrow."

Nakai shrugs. "Paperwork? I can do that," he says, offering a nod.

I'm not sure if he's saying that because he's interested, or because he's glad it wasn't something strenuous. I smile anyway; whatever the reason, he seems willing to help. After a brief exchange with Shizune about deadlines and procrastination, a lecture I had expected, I lead Nakai out the room and up the stairs toward the math lab.

Now that he's standing, I can see he's a bit taller than most of the boys; he must tower over little Emi. Following silently, almost to the point of being detached, he keeps looking at me like he wants to ask something, but his mouth never starts to move.

When we reach the math lab, I lead him over to a seat by the window and head over to the filing cabinet to retrieve the reports. Dropping half the stack in front of him, I ask, "so, do you want a soda or something before we start?" Practically leaping out of his chair, he stares at me with a shocked expression and lets out a gasp. Leaning back with surprise, I return a quizzical look.

_What kind of reaction was that?_

Then I realize; I hadn't said a single word during the previous discussion. He probably thinks I'm just as deaf and mute as Shizune – or thought I was, anyway.

"Sorry," I say, letting out a little laugh as he calms back down, "I usually don't bother to talk with Shizune since Misha usually does enough talking for a whole room full of people."

He leans forward and laughs, "You had me convinced you were a deaf-mute."

"Well, in that case, I'm sorry I said anything," I say with a sly wink.

He stops laughing. Strangely, his face seems much more comfortable with the frown he offers now, a fact I find distressing. "I assume you can hear, too," he asks.

Deciding to act a little coy, I yell, "what?" loudly.

_Am I flirting?_

He raises an eyebrow and offers a sideways glance. "You heard me," he says flatly.

I laugh, and he joins in again. He looks so much more natural with a smile on his face. Like he used to smile a lot, but hasn't done so much lately. It makes me a little sad to think what he went through to end up here.

"Well you're half right," I say, earning a furrowed brow in response before I add, "I fell off a pier when I was seven and hit the water hard on my left side." I lift the white trail of hair on the side of my face. "It blew out my eardrum on this side."

He leans back and breathes, "Oh."

I shrug and start sorting out the files in front of me. "If you ever want to ask me something, try to be on my right side," I mention.

He nods absently, his mind a little bit distracted by the information dump. When he starts thumbing through the reports, I start explaining what to do with them. It's mundane, really. All we need to do is go over all the different reports and add up all the materials they'll need, then sort them out by class, room and quantity, and add up all the costs. I probably could have done this all by evening, but the extra help is certainly appreciated.

The way he's started going through them at a relatively fast pace makes me wonder if he's doing it right, or if I'll have to spend half the night checking his work. I don't let him know that, though. He looks like he's already had a tough enough week ducking the Student Council on top of everything else that goes with starting at a new school – especially one like this.

"You shouldn't be so grumpy with Shizune and Misha," I blurt, immediately feeling like I shouldn't have.

He lifts his gaze to meet mine, and there's a half-smile there. I see it as an opportunity to explain myself, "they're not so bad, really. Shizune's kinda sweet when you get to know her, and Misha's all kinds of fun."

He furrows his brow, making a face like something I said doesn't make sense. After a few awkward moments, he puts his question to words, "sweet? I haven't quite gotten that vibe."

"That's 'cause she's so intense," I retort. He nods at hearing that. I'm not sure why I'm defending Shizune, but she's easily misunderstood, so I continue, "always barreling through like a shinkansen." The analogy sits well, seeing his continued nods, "When she's not striving for world domination, she's like a child – kinda sweet."

He smirks, and I'm pretty sure he's picturing Shizune acting like a child; perhaps stomping around frustrated or making silly faces. Finally he shrugs and looks back down, "I'll take your word for it."

Smiling, I go back to browsing the reports. I'm not sure why I said any of that, but I saw what Shizune was trying to do -help out the new guy- and felt like I should try and do my part. Her methods could use some work, but her intent is honorable. I think if Nakai understood what Shizune was doing, he'd be more inclined to go along with it; he might even enjoy her company. I suddenly feel jealous at that thought, but I don't know why.

Feeling him stare at my face –or my ear at least- I look up and catch him looking away. Having seen that kind of reaction, I'm used to seeing it, but I've never thought it was malicious. People are curious about that kind of thing, I guess. After sending half the morning trying to guess what emergency medical problem sent him to Yamaku, I think he can take a few minutes to wonder what it's like to be deaf in one ear - assuming that's what he was doing.

_Maybe I have something on my face?_

Of course, now that I've thought about it, I begin wondering about his medical problem again. He doesn't look like there's anything wrong with him. Although a lot of the students here don't; Amaya, for instance. He's started running with Emi, so it's likely not a motor control problem. He seems mentally quick, so I don't think it's something like LeLoush's aphasia. It takes a while before I notice that I'm staring at him. Our eyes meet and we both look away.

He clears his throat and asks, "sorry, did you need something?"

I feel my cheeks getting hot before I can even think of a response. I shake my head and look down at the reports, hoping he didn't see.

Why am I blushing? I'm just curious about whatever medical drama brought him here, right?

Whatever it is, he doesn't seem like he's ready to talk about it with anyone, much less someone he just met. I could ask Emi if we bump into each other tomorrow morning. Or I could just straight-up ask him right now.

When I look up, I see he's looking at me again, but this time it looks like he has a question; one that he's embarrassed to ask. "Your eyes," he says, the slightest tint of red wells up in his cheeks, "er, I mean. Why-"

Realizing what he's trying to ask, I save him from the awkward double entendre, "Heterochromia. I have both my parents eye colors – brown in the left and green in the right."

"Oh," he says simply. "I've never met anyone with two different colored eyes before."

I nod, already having a canned answer, "It's pretty uncommon. Only about a tenth of cases actually have two different color eyes. About one percent of the world population."

"So it makes you kinda unique," he says, offering a serene smile. I can't help but smile in response.

I never really thought of it that way, but I don't say anything. I just nod and go back to the reports. I'm also trying to hide my flushed face. The way he reacted when he tried asking that question was... well, cute. Maybe his interest wasn't limited to the oddity. Was he saving himself from asking a more embarrassing question by opting for the readily available, completely innocuous query?

_Why am I even thinking like this?_

Continuing to work in silence for quite a while, I happen to look over and notice it's after 5pm. Seeing he's still engrossed in working out the math for his last file, I figure we'll be done with enough time to drop them off in the Student Council room before they lock up for the night.

Before he can see me looking up, wanting to avoid another awkward conversation, I put my head down and force my way through the last of my own files. Ten minutes later, we're done. I get up and stretch while he does the same, and we both start picking up the files – almost simultaneously.

When he sets down the files in a stack with the completed total sheet on top, I smile and take the sheet, looking it over to check the math. If there are errors on it, I might have to look through his whole stack.

He raises an eyebrow as I meticulously scan over all his figures, a smile slowly spreading on my face. "Not bad, Nakai," I chirp, nodding with approval.

He grins and holds up a hand. "Call me Hisao," he says, "my teachers call me Nakai."

"Aiko," I nod, pointing to myself with the total sheet. "Not bad at all. I thought I was the only accounting whiz here."

He ignores the boast, instead shaking his head looking bewildered, "I'm not that great at it. The calculator did most of the work."

One of my dad's old mantras comes to mind, "even a calculator is wrong if the operator isn't right." He offers that a sagely nod and a grin in response.

Stacking the rest of the files together, I start heading for the door. He courteously opens it for me and starts following me toward the Student Council room. "I think I'll be all set from here if you wanna head back to your room," I say, deciding he's helped enough for today; and trying to put some distance between us.

"You're sure?" he asks politely.

"You cut my workload in half already. Go decorate your room or something," I suggest, stopping and turning. "You're new here, right?" I ask rhetorically.

"Yeah. Started Monday," he replies.

"If you need someone to show you around, look me up. I'm in 3-1 with Ito," as I say it, I'm not even sure what I'm thinking. He's got a whole classroom full of people that can help him get acclimated, and it seems Shizune already has designs on him joining the Student Council.

_Why am I volunteering?_

"3-3 with Mutou," he says, ending with a shake of his head, "you knew that, though."

Nodding, i extend an invitation, "If you wanna meet up for lunch or something, I usually spend them in the classroom."

Maybe I'm just being courteous, it's the right thing to do. Help out the new kid; be a good Samaritan. I remember when I was the new kid and I needed someone to show me around. There seems to be more to it than simple courtesy, though. Maybe my curiosity is getting the better of me, and I won't be satisfied until I know what horrible fate befell Hisao Nakai. Maybe I'm just intrigued about how easily he took to filling out the reports. Maybe I just want to help him smile.

"Okay," he says, waving goodbye with a small smile. "I'll think about it," he adds.

I smile, nod and turn, continuing my trek toward the Student Council room. With my back turned, I'm less concerned about the redness spreading across my face. For whatever reason, the idea of Hisao stopping by for lunch puts a spring in my step; I'm probably just happy to have made a new friend.

Waiting outside the student council room for the redness to fade, I find Shizune inside with Misha as soon as I push through the door. Seeing the finished reports in my hand, Shizune grins happily and starts going over the total-sheets almost immediately. Deciding not to stay and chat, I mention I had a late night and an early morning. With the reports held firmly in their hands, they're happy to let me go.

Heading back to the girl's dorm, I notice Amaya in the common room watching TV. She doesn't see me walk by, and I don't make an effort to be noticed. Not wanting to think about today's curious events, or think about them, I head up the stairs swiftly. I just want to get to my room, lie down and let this day fade into unconscious bliss. As I hit my pillow, I consider that I haven't eaten anything since lunch. However, the comfort afforded by my bed seems doubly powerful, and, unlike last night, I feel myself drifting to sleep almost immediately.

_Maybe I'll ask Emi what's wrong with Hisao tomorrow._

* * *

Footnotes:

_This being the first chapter of the first story I've posted here; Hi, my internet moniker is Helbereth, and I've been fervently writing this fan-story-turned-novel for a while._

_Having already posted this story on the KSG forums, part of the audience here has already seen this. Edited more thoroughly than the first time I posted it there, this is chapter 1 in a story I've been writing since early in July. All told, it's currently 17 chapters in length totaling over 130,000 words and growing. Over the next few weeks, I'll add the chapters I already have completed, and once this place is caught up, I'll release new chapters to both places simultaneously._

_You may have noticed the story focuses on an original character. Aiko Kurai, along with the majority of the cast I use as primary characters are my own creation - inserted into Yamaku Academy by some sleight of hand through the use of peripheral, unused parts of the school mentioned in the original VN. Aiko is the class-rep for room 3-1, which, since that room was only assumed to have even existed, I can populate it with whatever characters I see fit - even creating its homeroom teacher. To the point I'm at in the telling (chapter 17, which is the 4th chapter in Act 3) I have mentioned or described 8 out of the assumed 18 students in 3-1, added few non-student characters, and I have designs to include a few more before the end._

_Making use of the main cast as peripheral characters mostly, Aiko's is her own story; it doesn't try to insert itself into the lives of other students forcefully. Occasionally appearing out of the ether to contribute to the tale, they mostly exist in the background - though some are exceptions. Shizune and Misha will return often since Aiko is her class-rep, and they're the Student Council. Hisao is being written as Aiko's romantic interest; I used some prose from the post-cold war afternoon to insert Aiko into the story, actually. Others appear less often, and some hardly appear at all, but I based that on their relative distance from Aiko in terms of what classroom she's in and her personal interests. It didn't make sense to push anyone into the story whom she wouldn't run across naturally - though there are exceptions to that as well._

_Using first-person voice and assuming the protagonist has been at Yamaku for 2 years, I don't rush into describing people until she has a reason to bother looking them over, so don't complain that I didn't spend any time describing Tadao, Amaya or other OCs - their descriptions get worked into the narrative as the story goes. Having written a long diatribe about my distaste for the out-of-place information-dump in my author's notes on the KSG forum, I won't go into much detail; suffice to say I hate information dumping unless it makes sense for the scene._


	2. Chapter 2 In Your Dreams

**Chapter 2 – In Your Dreams**

_"Where are you going, Aiko?"_

_The question comes from far away, almost too far to hear. I feel like I should answer, but only for a moment. The sun's irradiating glow has heated the planks, and they burn my bare feet as I run. Ignoring the sensation, I realize it won't matter soon._

_"Aiko, don't go!"_

_This time the voice is even further away. The sound barely catching in my ears, and quickly leaving my memory as the thud of feet on wood fills my ears. I can hear my heart quicken as I continue running with abandon, not even caring where I'm running to – I simply run. Overwhelmed by the rushing wind, quickened pulse and shining sun, I run free; unhindered and without cares. No more tears, no more worry. No more expressionless expressions or cold stares. It's just me, the wind in my ears, the sun's warmth and the dock under my feet._

_And then it's not._

_Stopping unnaturally -as though frozen in time- I turn, trying to remember why I was running. The memories rush over me, but I can't catch them; slipping through my fingers like a cold wind, all I feel is the chill. My bones grind to a halt and my teeth begin to chatter, the rest of my body rocks and shakes as the chill fills me with dread. My chest tightens and I feel my lungs screaming for air they can't catch. The world that was bright and warm has turned cold and dark, and I long for that voice calling me._

_Straining my ears to hear anything, I try to ignore my screaming lungs, but I can't hear anything anymore; no wind, no patting feet, not even a whisper. This place is a vacuum, and its emptiness begins to devour me. Even as it thuds against my ribcage, terrified and erratic, I can't hear my own heartbeat. The world has left me in a soundless, airless winter, and I begin to cry. Tears rolling across my face, I sink to my knees and roll into a ball, sobbing into my hands._

_Everything is nothingness._

_Terror overwhelms me, intensifying the sobs and making my voice crack as I let out a guttural cry – a wail caught and silenced by the pervasive nothing creeping from below. I shudder as a freezing dampness begins to envelope me. As it rises, I can feel my body twitching weirdly, and growing numb. My stifled cries are a cursing protest, but I know it's in vain._

_As the numbness ascends, my terrified heart and mind beg me to open my eyes, but I refuse. I can't open my eyes. I don't want to watch the world crushing in on itself. Crushing me. I don't want to see the suffocating waves overwhelming me, or see the emotionless faces feigning concern. I don't want to see any of it anymore. I just want it to end._

_But it doesn't._

_I have to open my eyes, I have to see it happen. I have to see my reflection in the waves, the reflection of a child, as I fall in slow-motion. I have to look back and see my dad trying to reach out for me as I slip away from his grasp; like a ghost recalled to the realm of the dead. I whimper and steel my gaze, trying not to feel the rush of fear and doubt as the icy water cascades over me and the world turns black. The numbness fills me completely and I'm beyond fear._

_I touch madness as the world begins to go dark, and my mind fights the inevitability. I see people I've loved and people I've hated staring at me with their expressionless expressions – cold and emotionless. I try to scream again, but the wasted effort is caught in my throat as the icy water rushes in to drown me in darkness. As my eyes freeze and my heart slows to a stop, I try to think about something -anything- other than this numbing darkness. Everything I know and everything I've done escapes my lips as a final choked gasp and I drift into the eternal blackness, defeated._

* * *

Waking with a start, I feel the wetness on my cheeks and I try to forget the dream. The same dream, again. Each time I try to deny the power it holds over me, but each time I find myself curled up on my side whimpering as quietly as I can. It's a terror I have to face on my own. Nobody can do anything about it, I know. If I told Amaya, she'd just worry. If I told my parents, they'd probably put me in therapy.

_I don't have time for that._

After I choke back the tears enough to open my eyes, I roll over and look at my alarm clock. Having fallen asleep so early, I'm not surprised to see it's only three in the morning. All the missing sleep over the past two weeks seemed to catch up all at once, knocking me out earlier than I'd slept in months. Wiping my eyes with the backs of my hands, I sniffle the tears away and slowly calm down. I'm not being swallowed by freezing cold water, I'm alone in my dorm room and it's the middle of the night.

_It's also really dark still._

Swinging my legs off the bed, I grab my glasses, haphazardly tossed on the floor as I shuffled into bed, then leap onto my knees and turn to take a look outside. The night sky is lit by a three-quarter moon and a full field of stars. The lazy forest outside my window extends off into the darkness, but there's a mist in the air limiting the view. Leaning against the window sill, I try not to think about the cold water trying to choke me in my dream.

Trying not to think about something usually has the opposite effect, unfortunately. Having had that dream when I was little, not long after the accident, it's disturbingly familiar. Several times over the years, I awoke in my bed late at night filled with terror, the images echoing in my mind, but it was different from this new incarnation. I don't remember being nearly as frightened by it as I seem to be now. Maybe it's because I have other worries for the dream to project, but I try not to think about it too much. It's just a dream. There isn't a tsunami coming after me in the real world.

_Tsunami are rare this far inland._

Realizing that I actually slept eight consecutive hours, I decide that I probably won't be getting back to sleep. Sitting cross-legged on my bed, I drop my chin against my uplifted palm, trying to think of something to do. I look back through the previous day's events and recall the morning review for calculus – something I really didn't need. There was the English assignment, but I'm pretty hopeless where that's concerned. The rest of classes were a blur; I hadn't paid much attention, but I had also been distracted.

_The new guy._

He has a name, so I ought to stop calling him that. Hisao Nakai; tall, sullen and mysterious. Intrigued by his plight before I even met him, he seemed even more of a mystery now, and I can't resist a good mystery. That's probably why I practically threw myself at him.

_Is that what I was doing?_

Nobody was more surprised than myself when I invited him to lunch, and the little wave he offered seemed genuine. I really hope he wasn't just being polite. I mean, I'd understand if he was just waving to try and get rid of me -people do that sometimes- but I think he was expressing a real interest in...

_In what? In me? Dream along with me._

All I said is that I'd help show him around. Having offered my services as a tour guide, something he probably doesn't even need, he waved, he smiled, and I'll never talk to him again.

_Dammit._

Falling back on my bed, I feel a wave of dizziness as I hit the pillow. Damn my useless ear, and damn Hisao Nakai; he can act coy and mysterious all he wants; I'm not interested anymore. I'm done playing games and arguing with myself about things I can't even control.

Breathing out a long exasperated sigh, I look at the clock. "Three-o-five?" I whisper, vocalizing my frustration. Grabbing another pillow, I slam it on my face, trying to block out the world.

_All this thought and worry and it only wasted five minutes?_

Rolling on my side again, I pull the covers up until they cover me completely and I try closing my eyes to force myself to sleep – like a bird with a sheet over its cage. My brain betrays me, having no intention of letting me drift the hours away in unconsciousness. Putting up quite the fight, I stay motionless under the covers with my eyes closed for an amazing ten minutes. Heaving a resigned sigh, i toss the blankets aside and stand up out of bed.

Insomnia I can deal with, but, being up this early, feeling rested and refreshed, with nobody around and nothing to do but think is pure torture. Reaching over, I snap on my desk lamp and sit down, opening my laptop and hearing its wake-up chime. For a moment, I consider reviewing some class work, but I'm not in my right mind now. I need something to distract me from school, not act as a reminder.

Looking over my desktop, I notice a program icon that I haven't checked out in a while. Amaya 'acquired' and ostentatiously recommended an as yet unreleased beta a few weeks ago, thinking it would be something I'd enjoy. Saying there was some kind of complex physics engine involved, and something about alternate dimensions or something like that, she had sparked my interest. After installing it, though, I never actually gave it a try. Glancing at the clock, I figure I have plenty of time to give _Portal_ a try.

Nearly three hours of hopping through the pirated beta went by faster than expected. Still full of bugs and glitches, the game is rough to keep stable and crashes often, but I don't care. The strange wormhole-gun -portal gun, they call it- and how you interacted with the environment through its use, left me with a sense of wonderment. The sense that I'm playing a game I shouldn't legally have access to is also exciting.

The physics engine and the math behind it kept me intrigued for hours; even as the game continually blue-screens and crashes. Spending hours pushing the limits of the game's physics engine, I'm continually surprised by the effect using the portals has on the game universe. Wondering whether it might be possible such a thing could ever actually work, I imagine being able to walk across the room in a single step, or maybe even across the planet – or the universe.

My musings are interrupted by a sound outside my door. Metallic springing noises that I quickly recognize as Emi's prosthetic running spikes. Not even thinking, I stand and head for my door, reaching for the knob with the idea to stop her and ask about-

_What, exactly?_

Stopping myself, I step back, listening to the springing sounds disappear around the corner.

_What was I going to ask her, exactly?_

"Hey y'know that new guy you're crushing on, what's wrong with him?"

That would go over well.

If he did tell her, she takes stuff like that as seriously as a doctor. Even if I had the courage to ask, there's no way she'd give me a straight answer. At most, she'd giggle and wonder why I was so interested; and then I'd be blushing and slamming my door before she could blink. "She probably doesn't know, anyway," I tell myself.

Sitting back down in front of the computer, I suddenly don't feel like messing with the buggy game. Noticing I'm also a lot hungrier than I thought, I decide now is a good time for breakfast. Six o'clock seems early, but I've been up for three hours, and I haven't eaten since lunchtime yesterday. With that in mind, I decide to head down to the common room.

As I approach, I notice the lights are on in the little kitchen area and I frown at seeing Amaya laying face-down on the floor. Her blue nightgown is twisted around her legs and I can see a puddle of drool under her mouth. Ignoring my hunger pains, I quickly slide down and turn her over, checking her pulse. She's just sleeping now, but I'm still worried.

Epileptic seizures are nothing to scoff at, and I've found her like this before - many times. Quietly berating myself for not taking a look around the dorms in the past three hours, I wonder how long she's been down here on the cold floor. Had Emi seen her here, she would have stopped, I'm sure. With that thought in mind, I surmise she hasn't been here terribly long and my breathing calms.

Shaking Amaya's tiny shoulders, I wince as she stirs. Her eyes flickering open, she sputters into a coughing fit. lifting her head off the floor, I rest her on my knee while she reaches for my hand, trying to find support.

"Hey there, you feel okay?" I ask, stroking her short, straight hair and trying to stay calm.

She lets out a whine as she curls up against my leg and starts to cry. As I rub her head, I make a point to check for blood – like Nurse told me. She feels what I'm doing and calms her self enough to say, "I'm f-fine," she stutters, "I'll be fine. I just-"

I pull my hand away, not wanting to frustrate her further. "Do you want me to bring you to Nurse?" I ask, trying to keep the concern out of my voice – and probably failing.

_Honestly, at this point, I'm glad I'm not panicking._

She rolls away and shakes her head, holding a frown on her little round face. The state she's in, I don't think I should leave her, so I stay beside her. After a short while, she calms down and sits up, feeling around for her glasses. Noticing they were apparently thrown into the kitchen when she fell over, I get up and retrieve them. "C'mon," I say, handing them over, "I'll walk you back to your dorm. You're sure you don't wanna see-"

She shakes her head emphatically as I pull her to her feet. Placing an arm under hers as we walk, I can feel her stumbling against me groggily. Luckily she's lighter than I am, and I have no trouble holding her upright.

As we make our way back toward her room -which is right across from mine- I consider walking her to the Nurse's office instead. She probably wouldn't even notice the change of direction, but I settle on checking in with him later.

Amaya's medications won't completely prevent her seizures, he told me, but, without them, she practically couldn't leave her room. He was surprisingly candid with me, but I think it had more to do with helping protect Amaya than it did sating my curiosity. Nurse is fond of recruiting students to help their fellow classmates – like a buddy system.

_The way he recruited Emi to run with Hisao?_

Pushing that question away as we reach Amaya's room, i find her door unlocked, so I open it and enter cautiously. Without any protests, I lay her down on her bed, and look over her tired form. Nothing looks injured, so I guess she got lucky this time; that wasn't always the case.

It's terrifying to think what could have happened had she gotten closer to the more dangerous parts of the kitchen, or hit something as she fell, or smacked her head as she flopped around on the ground like a fish out of water. She once told me about a gash on the back of her head that took fifteen stitches. She laughed it off, but I was attached to her hip for weeks afterward like a mother hen.

Now, sitting in the darkness of her room, stroking her arm as she drifts between sleep and wakefulness, I find myself exhausted by the whole ordeal. When I'm sure she's unconscious, I send the Nurse a text message explaining the situation. Telling him she didn't want to bother him, I offer an apology, but he doesn't seem to mind. "Don't worry about it," his reply assures, "stop by and fill me in later, okay?"

Not bothering to reply further, I know he knows I would end up down there anyway. For now, I sit, and contemplate, and wonder, and try not to be lulled to sleep by the quiet. After about thirty minutes, I feel my eyelids sinking and, letting out a yawn, I stretch and try to push away the fatigue. Nodding off for a few minutes, I snap awake and quickly stand.

With the memory of the dream still hovering around the edges of my conscious mind, I look down at Amaya sleeping peacefully. The thought of risking the return of that dream makes me shake my head in frustration. Feeling a little jealous of her restful pose, I sigh inwardly, but she's not to be blamed - she doesn't even know about them.

Instead of wallowing, I head across the hall and grab my laptop before returning to keep vigil over my friend. As the morning wears on, I notice it's nearly time to start getting ready for school. Though I hate to disturb her, I feel I should at least ask, "Amaya, you awake?" Groaning, she rolls away from me, clearly understanding the question.

I continue, inquiring, "do you want me to tell Ito you're taking a day off?" She rolls back toward me and scoffs, but the look in her eyes is pleading for me to answer for her.

"I'll tell him you're not feeling well. He doesn't have to know about-" I end the statement there, seeing her darkened expression. Ito will probably see through that lie, but that I'd at least try it makes her smile a little. "I will be telling Nurse, though," I state; she doesn't need to know I already did.

She rolls back over and sighs with resignation, "fine."

Amaya is childish about her condition sometimes. Sometimes, I wonder if I was ever like that after the accident, but I don't really remember. Mostly, I remember the aftermath; ice cream, balloons and being terrified of water for a whole year.

Creaking loudly as I leave, the door lets in light from the hallway which Amaya blocks out with a pillow stuffed against the exposed side of her head. It seems like her episode left her with more then just exhaustion - a light-sensitive headache, perhaps. After showering and changing, I head out of the dorm toward the main building, ready to drone through another day of boredom.

Like zombies, groaning and shuffling their way through the halls, my classmates filter in slowly; followed by Ito, who walks in sweaty and frustrated just like yesterday. Telling him about Amaya's 'illness', he nods knowingly. Taking my desk, Tadao taps my shoulder and asks for the real story.

Deciding Amaya wouldn't really mind him knowing, I relate the whole story. His face sinks as I explain how I found her, but, when I explain she was mostly fine, he looks relieved. Poor Tadao looks so bewildered by the news, I doubt he'll be able to pay attention all day. Just one more concerned message I'm stuck holding in my head, held to a promise not to deliver.

_I'm a little tired of being their secret confidant._

The morning passes by like any other day; any other day when twenty people each have twenty questions to ask. Keeping a notebook for all their lodged complaints and grievances, I have it out on my desk in case anyone has a request. Only Amaya and I are privy to its contents.

Each complaint is itemized and rated based on the severity of the issue. As I sift through the pages, I find most of the complaints are perpetually the same – often from the same students. Unfortunately, there's little I can do about the vast majority of their grievances, but most of them understand - all I can do is relay their queries, really.

_It's frustrating._

Working individually on textbook assignments, the class is hushed by a renewed desire to understand the material – or at least they're not snoring loudly. I breeze through the calculus assignment, and beg Tadao for help with English. He complies willfully, still looking distraught, but I don't think it's possible for me to learn that backwards language. Heaving a final frustrated sigh as the bell rings signifying lunch, I turn my gaze toward the door. Staring for a few minutes at the motionless portal, I sigh again and shrug.

_I didn't really expect him, anyway._

Digging my lunch out, I start nibbling at it while looking through my English book with a disdainful frown on my face that Tadao chooses to ignore. Being somewhat of a literary genius, he's never happy to see anyone look so distastefully at literature.

The headache I feel throbbing in my temples reminds me that I never did eat breakfast while keeping vigil over Amaya, so I decide to forgo the impossible and close my book, attacking my lunch like a shark. So engrossed with digging through the rice and bits of beef, I don't notice a figure looming over my desk.

Politely tapping my shoulder, i turn to see Tadao grinning up toward the looming figure. Following his eyes, I see our guest's smiling visage looming over me with a befuddled expression, one hand in his jacket pocket and a packed lunch in the other.

_The new guy. The new guy!?_

Nearly choking on the rice, I take a sharp breath and gag. Wiping my hands together, I absently attempt to distract him from my deplorable eating habits, smiling sheepishly and likely looking like Naoko. "N-Nakai?" I sputter.

He clears his throat, trying to choke back a laugh at my reaction. "Hisao," he corrects. "You said I should stop by for lunch," he says, raising an eyebrow with the half-question.

My eyes widen and I suddenly feel self-conscious. "I- Uh, yeah. I did-" my mouth can't seem to form words and I feel a blush streak across my face. Trying to hide it, I duck away, but that brings the rice back, causing me to hack and cough. Feeling his eyes on me, watching me, I try not to think about what he must be thinking.

_Awesome, he already knows you have the table manners of a wolverine. Snik._

"I'd have been here sooner, but I didn't actually know where room 3-1 was," he mentions, casting his wandering gaze around the room. Observing him share a nod with Ito, I suppose they've met. Ito offers a half-smile and looks back into his book.

"Oh, sorry. I should have-" I cut myself off and start pointing to the desk behind me, "you can take Ama- er, Yamamoto's seat. She's not in today."

He fidgets nervously as he looks at the seat. "Is she alright?" he asks, concernedly.

I didn't expect that question. I should have expected that question. He's a human being, and humans naturally feel concern, right? Why am I second-guessing natural human concern? Yoshida sees me squirming and lets out a little chuckle. Seeing my glare, he quickly stifles it and goes back to his lunch.

Looking back up at Nakai, I frown. "She's not feeling well," I say simply.

"Oh," he says flatly, relaxing a little. The concerned look doesn't leave his face, but he moves to sit down. As he does so, I realize how awkward it might be for us to talk if we're facing opposite directions. Clumsily, I turn my desk around and sit back down, feeling uncomfortable. He sees the discomfort on my face and asks, "are you alright?"

Pointing to the left, toward the rest of the class, I lean in and remark, "remember how I said I can't hear on the left?"

"Ah," he leans forward and whispers, "wanna switch places?"

Trying not to blush, I look down. After a second I decide looking down is probably even more telling, so I look up and nod. As we change chairs, there are a million questions racing through my mind. I can't answer any of them, and this mysterious new guy isn't helping relieve my curiosity.

Instead of asking him anything, I just sit there and dumbly eat my lunch. I do make an effort not to make myself look like a total slob, but I'm pretty sure that first impression is gone.

_Maybe he'll think it's cute and quirky... Probably not._

After i make a comment on the weather at some point, he starts talking about meteorology for a few minutes, but it leads nowhere. After untold minutes of awkward, soul-crushing silence, I look over at the clock and realize there's only five minutes left to the lunch break. Having not worked up the courage to ask him a single question -at least nothing important- I feel down, but not defeated. Finally, deciding to seize what little time I have left, I lean forward and blurt out a question, "so, what are you doing for the festival?"

_Great job, Kurai. Way to ask the eye-opening questions._

His response, however, catches me by surprise, "I dunno, really."

My face twist in confusion, and my reaction makes him frown. Just when I thought I'd asked the dumbest question possible, he gives an answer like that. "What do you mean, you don't know?" I ask, sounding more annoyed than concerned.

He blinks and looks out the window, "I've barely been here a week and I'm already feeling tired. I might just stay in and catch up on some sleep."

_Sleep? Is he kidding? Games, prizes, gloriously unhealthy food, fireworks and a few hundred -maybe a thousand- smiling, laughing faces for one day of the year and he wants to sleep through it...?_

I start shaking my head emphatically, holding my hands up and repeating, "No-no-no-no-no. You can't skip the festival! Are you crazy?" I feel myself standing, but I just go with it and continue, "the whole place is lit up with lanterns, there's a dozen silly games to play, prizes to be won and fireworks to watch." I gesture wildly as I describe the event, and he raises his eyebrows, looking around the room as much as he does me.

I start becoming more animated, flailing my arms around and pointing randomly – I think he looks frightened. "It's a one-day event filled with happiness and reverie, and you're thinking about spending it alone, in your dorm, under your covers," leaning close with a snarl on my lips, I add, "in dreamland." Keeping my gaze on him, I realize may have overplayed my hand.

_Overplayed would be an understatement._

My rising voice apparently caught the attention of the class, but I don't care. Everyone is staring at the crazy lady, but I let them. This is important. Celebrating life is important. His expression is somewhere between shock, confusion and amazement, but he isn't agreeing with me, still. "You can't just stay in bed while the world passes you by," I say, "I won't let you." Flinching as I point at him, he watches my furious finish with wide eyes.

Glancing around the room at a few of the onlookers, I kick Tadao's foot seeing him start shaking his head. Looking back over at Nakai, I'm relieved to see he's genuinely grinning; a smile I'd only seen once yesterday that makes him look natural – happy. I want to smile back, but the embarrassment hits me like a truck and I fall down into my seat, trying to salvage my dignity.

Flipping my hair back, I settle into a pensive posture, arms folded in front of me. Offering a warm smile that he returns in kind, I try to ignore the murmuring. Whatever mocking I endure for that outburst, I think it was worth seeing that smile.

_I still feel like a perfect fool._

He picks up his lunch bag and whispers, a gentle crack in his voice, "okay, fine, I'll go." He stands and heads for the door, quickly, and I watch him leave feeling fifteen pairs of eyes focused directly on my face. I can't hold back the blush spreading over me, so I turn away letting my hair hide my shame, pretending to look out the window. Behind me, a chorus of childish voices sing together with an overzealous, "Ooooooh."

If I could turn invisible right now, I would. Wishing I had a portal gun so I could escape back to my dorm, I instead have to stare out the window, looking at nothing important, until they stop staring long enough for me to turn my desk back around. Tadao gets a pair of swift kicks to the leg for winking at me as I make my way around with the chair.

Usually, I have more control than that. I'm not sure if it was frustration, infatuation or contempt driving me to yell at Hisao, but it's nothing I feel bad about. Well, I feel a little bit bad about yelling at the new guy, but I'd feel worse if he became a shut-in.

_Not going to the festival? Does he want to end up like that Setou kid?_

After that disaster, the second half of the day goes by almost as lazily and uneventful as the first. The outburst isn't the topic of discussion, though, rather my blushing cheeks and his quick retreat. I catch a few more glances at me, but the novelty wears off while Mutou tries to explain particle physics. Fortunately none of them have the courage to ask their burning questions, and I'm perfectly content to let them wonder.

Speaking of wonder, albeit small ones, Amaya walks in just before last period and looking a hundred times better than this-morning. As she walks by I shoot a glare at Tadao to gain his complicity about the incident with Nakai. He looks at me with a half-interested expression and just nods, knowing better than to disagree.

"Tadao, were you sitting at my desk?" she asks, giving his foot a swift kick as she sits down.

Yanking his foot away, Tadao winces and stutters, "N-, er." he looks at me, not knowing what to say.

I raise my eyebrows and roll my hand, as if to say, "Go on."

"Yeah, my fault. I was..." he trails off, not having a lie ready.

Thinking up a quick excuse to cover, I offer a plausible lie, "he sat there to help me with English earlier." She turns her analytical glare toward Tadao who grins and nods, though he's just accepting the answer rather than agreeing.

Amaya doesn't look convinced, but she shrugs. "Okay, whatever," she sighs, "next time don't leave my chair half-way across the room."

Considering the whole class saw what happened, I don't know why I want to hide it from my best friend, but I know Amaya would bring down the full weight of the inquisition. Having had enough embarrassment for today -for the month- I'd like to avoid that fate, if only for a little while. Changing the subject, I ask her, "did you go see Nurse?"

Balking, she offers an insincere, "yes, mom." The sarcasm in her tone is hard to miss.

Rolling my eyes, I turn around to look her in the eyes and frown. "Don't you lie to me, I know you too well," I say, shaking an indignant finger at her.

She grumbles as she opens her book to find the chapter scrawled on the board. "Fine, I'll go see him after class," she says with a sigh and adds, "it's no big deal."

Sometimes she forces it out of me, even though I try not to act like her second mother. "It's because I care, okay," I remark, watching her shrug. Turning back and shaking and I turn back to listen to another exciting history lecture.

The end of classes for a Friday is usually cause for some celebration, but this is festival week. There's no celebration during festival week; until the festival, of course.

Walking with Amaya down to see Nurse –more to make sure she's alright than to make sure she goes- he's somewhat surprised to see her actually show up, offering me a nod of appreciation. After that, we head back to the classroom to help finish the signage for our booth, and get the other details finished. We might actually be finished before the end of today, and I'll be glad to be able to relax. At least until the next disaster happens.

_What should I wear to the festival? _


	3. Chapter 3 Flash of Brilliance

Chapter 3 – Flash Of Brilliance

Sleeping at odd hours has strange effects on future sleep patterns. After returning to my dorm late last night, I made myself a bowl of Ramen and sat down at my desk to play digital solitaire for a few minutes. A few minutes stretched into a few hours -I don't remember how many games I played- and when I looked at my clock it had passed midnight. I immediately closed my laptop, dropped onto my bed and fell asleep.

Two hours later I awaken, groggy and muttering, glance at the clock and throw a pillow at it in disgust. Rolling over, I try going back to sleep, but my mind betrays me -like it always does- so now I lay here in bed thinking about Amaya's seizure, booth signage, clothes shopping, Tadao's wink, and screaming at the new guy. Though, I began to wonder if he'd intentionally set me up for that outburst.

_He didn't seem like a smooth-talker, but..._

He was so quiet and coy, and I'd assumed he was as nervous as myself. That perpetual frown as we sat in silence seemed to scream, "Cheer me up!" However, the way he wandered into the classroom without my noticing, sat through lunch with barely a word, and looked like a lost puppy the whole time, that could all have been an elaborate act. He wasn't planning to go to the Festival, so he said, but that didn't make any sense. It's a festival; it's fun by default.

_Why would he even consider not going?_

He's new around here, I'll give him that, but that frown on his face didn't seem like anything more than a recent addition – an anomaly. He must have had fun before whatever happened to him happened to him; he had to remember what it was like going to a party and seeing your friends.

_Maybe that's it?_

He just started school here, and so far the only people I've seen him talking to are Shizune, Misha and myself – he shared a nod with Ito, but that doesn't count. Unless one of them asked him to go, it would probably be a rather empty experience for him. That thought makes me feel awful, and I feel bad for doubting his sincerity, but he did say he would go, at least. Saving him from a boring day cooped up in his room sleeping while his new classmates have fun was worth the hurt feelings, I think.

_Well, maybe not 'saving'._

It's not like it was a life-or-death situation. If he decides to go, I will have had something to do with it, and I can feel happy about that, but he would have been fine otherwise, right? I should still apologize for yelling at him, especially around so many people; even though most of them probably didn't hear a word of what I'd said. It's the principle of the thing.

_Still, if it wasn't intentional, why the interest in me?_

Shizune and Misha seemed to be taking to him, so they probably offered to show him around – it's something the Class President is supposed to ensure, really. They probably pestered him about joining the Student Council through most of the morning, and I'd basically told him to trust Shizune's intentions. So, then, why not just take the easier route and have lunch with them, assuming they asked. It took him an extra ten minutes just to find my classroom.

_I should have shown him on Thursday._

_Was he that interested in seeing me again that he ducked the Student Council and wandered the halls trying to find me? Did he go out of his way like that to be polite and not disappoint me after saying he would stop by? Did Shizune put him up to it? That makes no sense; why would Shizune even know about it?_

_Am I that special?_

This is all so confusing. Now I wonder if Amaya is awake. She'd know what to tell me; or at least she'd give me a swift kick that might reboot my clouded mind. Glancing at the clock, I see it reads, "2:34 am." Even having slept most of the morning, Amaya is probably out like a light. She made a point not to show it, but on days she had seizures, they leave her feeling like a zombie. She'll be up in a few hours, though, and once her inquisition is over I can ask her what she thinks I should do.

With that thought in mind, I roll over and suddenly feel the fatigue that had escaped me. My eyes close, and I drift back to sleep holding an image of that happy smile I wanted to see again.

Loud banging wakes me sometime later, and I sit up fast enough to make my head loll with a wave of dizziness. "What?" I yell, my voice reduced to a croak.

Through the door I hear a muffled Amaya. "You're gonna be late, Aiko. Get up!"

Hearing that, I turn my groggy head to see the clock. Now It reads, "7:47 am," and I throw my covers away, standing up more cautiously, but with urgency. Quickly changing into my uniform, I glance at myself in the mirror and run a hand through my thick hair a few times, trying to matte it down.

Amaya calls again as I hear her try opening the locked door. "I'll leave without you, y'know," she barks.

"I'm up, I'm up," I call through the door, "just gimme a sec, okay?"

I hear her whistle a sigh. "Just hurry up..." she trails off into what I assume is a yawn.

A few minutes later, after rushing through getting my nylons on and straightening my uniform, I open the door and Amaya rolls her eyes at me. "Late night?" she asks with half-open eyes.

"Early morning," I correct her.

Another eye roll and a shrug. "Whatever, let's just go. You and I have some business to discuss," she states as a devious grin highlights the dimples in her cheeks.

_  
__Oh boy. She knows. I'm caught. Someone told. I'm doomed. Let the inquisition begin. Someone kill me now. Get it over with, please!_

I barely hear her ask, "I heard Tadao was all concerned about me yesterday."

I start blurting things out before she even finishes, "well, you see, I invited him to lunch, and didn't think he'd go, but then he did, and we sat there, and there was this long awkward silence, and then I asked about the- wait what?" I stop my rambling and cast her a bewildered glance. Staring at me with an eyebrow raised, she hangs her mouth open looking perfectly perplexed, and I hang my head down.

_I've condemned myself._

"What are you talking about?" she asks, hooking her thumbs in the straps of her backpack and narrowing her eyes.

I start sputtering, "I- I, uh. Well, you see..." My mouth seems to have spent all its ability to speak on that run-on sentence a second ago.

She raises her eyebrows and shakes her head. "I asked you about Tadao, not your boyfriend," she says, tossing her shoulders to lift her backpack into a more comfortable position.

_Oh God. This is worse!_

I stutter and mumble, staring at my shoes – which I now realize aren't tied. Ignoring that, I continue babbling until I feel her hand on my shoulder. I look down at her, straight into her eyes. She looks a little bewildered, which is fine, I guess, but then she speaks, "I was just kidding."

_I'll never play poker._

She starts laughing hysterically as I squirm under her gaze, and I feel like a perfect fool.

_Twice in as many days, this has been a good week._

After her hysterics calm, I manage to finally say something, "how did you-"

She interjects, "Tadao's a worse liar than you." She looks away in contemplation, letting her laughter subside. She looks back to finish her story, "as sad as that sounds. He spilled the whole story on our walk back to the dorms."

I nod, realizing that should have been my first guess. Tadao Yoshida may be a wordsmith, but his conversational skills are somewhat lacking. He's too direct and honest to lie convincingly.

"Besides," she adds, looking at me dismissively, "I think half the school knows about it by now, so I'd have found out eventually." She starts walking down the hall and I remember my shoes. Ducking to tie them, I see her stop and turn to ask, "so, what's the new guy like, anyway? I haven't seen him around yet."

I take the time tying my shoes to come up with an answer. I decide to use the word that I've found best fits since I first met him. "Mysterious," I answer cryptically.

"Re-eally?" she says, leaning back and separating the word into distinct syllables. She unhooks one of her thumbs from the bag strap and places a finger on her chin - her thinking pose. I know it well.

"Yeah, y'know..." I stand and fall in step as she starts walking, "new and mysterious."

When we're outside and headed across to the main building, she finally speaks again, "so what about my question?" I look at her dumbly, not remembering. She lets out a frustrated sigh and leans forward emphatically to clarify, "about Tadao, duh?"

"Oh, he's-" I stop myself and take a moment to think. She and Tadao have been dancing around each other for the past year or so – studying together, joining clubs together, reading together... bothering me together. It's almost like they're together, but not. Neither one has worked up the courage to ask the other what their relationship actually means. They're the cutest non-couple at Yamaku.

Still, I don't want to force them together, I'm not sure what would happen to our little trio if things didn't work out. I've remained neutral for this long, knowing both sides but saying nothing. "He was worried is all. Like anyone would be. Even the new guy was concerned when I told him you were out sick," I explain.

She pales a little, looking angry. "You told the new guy about-"

"No." I stop her, "I told him you weren't feeling well is all." I watch as the anger melts off her face before saying, "it's not my place to tell people about your condition," quickly adding, "nor is it yours to tell about anyone else's." I give her a side-long look with that. She knows what secrets I'm referencing, and I know she understands my reasons. Even though she's a bit of a gossip, I know she'd never tell anyone. It never hurts to remind her, though.

"So Tadao wasn't any more worried than the new guy?" she asks, sounding a little disappointed.

Deciding to make her smile, I mention, "he knows you better, so he was a lot more worried, I think." Hearing that accomplishes my goal, and the disappointment leaves her expression. However, seeing her face light up at the mere mention of Tadao's concern makes me want to bring an end to their dodging. If hearing it from a third party can make her happy, hearing it from the real thing might make her sing - not that I'd want to hear her sing ever again.

_I didn't know it was possible to sing 'Happy Birthday' off-key._

An idea formulates in my devious mind as I decide to drop the other shoe, "he cares about you, y'know."

Blushing, she looks away. It's the answer she wanted, I'm sure, but I don't think she expected it from me. So far, I've been a neutral observer, she understands, and never expects me to be so emphatic when she asks questions like this. Trying to stay out of their relationships, though, has become a full-time job sometimes. With the Festival fast approaching, their asides and queries will probably increase in frequency.

Part of me -the motherly part- wants to try and protect both of them from each-other, but, the longer this goes, the worse the outcome could be for everyone involved. That thought emboldens me, so, desiring to be done with their games and give them a chance at being happy, I decide it's time I nudged them together. The actual nudging really shouldn't be difficult. All I have to do is put them in a situation where they're together, alone, with a presumed sense of mutual understanding.

They're already great together, getting along like a married couple –sometimes disturbingly so- and with the Festival inbound, I think I already have an idea how to accomplish my goal. Stepping through the doors and heading for the stairs with Amaya, the thought occurs to me that if they were out on dates some nights, they might leave me alone – and I'd have time for... other activities.

_Let's not get ahead of myself._

Walking into the classroom a few minutes late, we're both surprised to find Ito hasn't arrived yet. before sitting down, I notice Tadao and decide look him over –inspecting him like a piece of meat- to ensure he's good enough for Amaya. Already knowing the answer, this is mostly perfunctory, but Amaya is my best friend - only the best for her.

Dreamily staring into his notebook, writing something, Tadao has his hearing aid switched off to reduce the chance of being disturbed. Basically, he's completely oblivious to what's going on, and I can look him over without fear of consequence; assuming I don't linger for too long.

His long, sandy-colored, messy hair hangs in his face, causing him to constantly throws his free hand across his brow to brush strands out of his eyes. Drawn, gaunt features are angled into the squint of his tired-looking hazel eyes; reflecting the serenity of his dream-like waking state. A narrow, cleft chin rests askew as his jaw shifts to one side, caught in thought. Thin, narrow shoulders are pulled forward as he hunches, the position belying his his height. Long, skinny legs extend in front of him, crossed awkwardly, as he balances on the front of his chair. He looks uncomfortable, but I've seen him sit like that for hours without complaint.

Nodding approvingly to no-one in particular, I take my seat just in time to hear Ito's heavy footsteps approach the door. Bursting through it with the subtlety of a rhinoceros, he barrels across the room in a huff and lands heavily in his chair. The class mostly ignores him; they're used to seeing him barge in late, winded and sweaty.

After his display of middle-aged bluster, I do notice a few casual glances in my direction, but I try to ignore them. The novelty of yesterday's incident hasn't completely worn itself out – unlike poor Ito-sensei; huffing and panting like he just finished a marathon. Eventually he stands and writes out a textbook assignment on the board, turning to sign, [that'll be due Monday,] before flopping back down in his chair and digging his book out to read.

_He must really be out of it if he can't even speak._

It's Saturday, so it's only a half day, and I'm excited to have the time after school to do some shopping. Digging into the assignment verily, I finish well ahead of the rest of the class, then turn to help Amaya and Tadao. When English class starts, I turn to them for recompense from their adept literary minds.

About half way through the assignment, I turn to Tadao and ask, "so what are you doing for the festival after your shift?" I keep my head down so he can't see my devious grin. Amaya gives me a cold stare, but I ignore her; this is for their benefit.

_And my own, I'll admit._

Tadao squirms and lets out a chuckle as he sinks deeper into his chair. "I hadn't really thought about it," he says finally.

"Well," I say, ignoring Amaya's protesting eyes, "Amaya and I are going to dress up and play some games if you wanted to tag along." Amaya lets out a relieved sigh, the look in her eyes fading to one of quiet thanks.

_But, I'm not done. Mwahaha!_

"Or, I could take your shift at the booth," I suggest with a cordial smile, "and you could wander around with Amaya for a while." I end with a practiced smile, trying to hide the deviousness of my offer.

_So, there it is._

My entire plan rests on Tadao taking the bait and playing hooky, basically. As I sit there with an expectant look, I glance at Amaya and have to stifle a laugh. Seeing her blush glare at me angrily at the same time is both adorable and scary. Tadao looks away at the ceiling, something he seems to do to avoid eye-contact more than think, but I can almost hear the gears turning.

While he's looking away, I feel a slap on my arm. Amaya is probably twice as uncomfortable, but this is good for them. I'm tired of being their go-between. It's time they actually sat down and talked.

_Where better than at the Yamaku Festival?_

After a silence that I imagine is much more uncomfortable for them than it is for me, Tadao looks back and nods, forcing a half smile and swallowing hard. Amaya smiles too, and letting the idea wash over her seems to put stars in her eyes. I lean back in my chair and offer a raised eyebrow, "you'll owe me for this."

_I'm taking his shift, after all._

Tadao grins at me while Amaya shoots daggers at me with her stony expression; I laugh a little to myself knowingly. If things work out the way I think they'll work out, these two will be wanting to thank me anyway; assuming things don't go horribly wrong. Seeing the casual glances they keep levying at each-other over the rest of class, though, I don't think I made a mistake.

After the half-day ends, Amaya hangs on my arm and talks at a mile a minute; her lips seeming to move faster than the sounds. Laughing quietly to myself, I listen to her prattle on about needing a new yukata, shoes, a haircut, maybe some makeup, and a million other unnecessary things. All she really needs is to bring herself, but I let her have the fantasy.

In the middle of her babbling, I manage to mention I wanted to go into the city after class, and she agrees wholeheartedly. Running off with child-like giddiness, I follow her at a more contemplative pace back to our dorms so we can change out of our uniforms for a trip into the city.

An hour or so later, we're on the bus headed into the city, and she's still giddily babbling about what might happen at the festival between her and Tadao. Realizing the Geneva Convention might consider this audio torture, I resign myself to listen. Accepting it gladly, I almost regret playing my hand to push them together, but the results matter more than a slight headache.

Getting off the bus, we both already know where we're going, and it's certainly not to the dress shop right away. Walking side-by-side, we talk about last year's festival mostly, recalling the evening we spent trying to catch goldfish and chasing Tadao down to recruit him for some throwing games. Having found him sitting against that blank wall -the one Rin is supposed to be painting a mural on this year- reading something from the Icewind Dale series, he had groaned in protest. Wanting to finish the chapter, he tried waving us away, but Amaya snatched the book out of his hand, causing him to chase her all the way to the gaming booths.

Later, Amaya huddled against him with her eyes closed during the fireworks. Her epilepsy had been less controlled back then and she was afraid of having the bright lights trigger an episode. He just sat there, trying to read his book in the dim light of the lanterns, and that was the first time I thought they'd be perfect together. A year later, I'm following Amaya into a little cafe for a quick bite to eat before we start the long, arduous process of shopping for her date.

_Is it safe to call it that, I wonder?_

Last year it was the three of us wandering the booths, playing games, laughing and carrying on about whatever nothings were going on at the time. Having just come back from a particularly awful trip home, I was in no state of mind for romantic pursuits, and the both of them were too oblivious to see the writing on the wall. Tomorrow, they would be wandering the festival together.

_That's like a date, right?_

Even though it was my idea, I almost feel like I'm being left out. Having been listening to the two of them ramble on about each other for the last year, acting like a confidant while keeping both their secrets, not being there to see its end feels like I'm missing the end of a movie. Watching them banter indirectly over the past year has been rather entertaining, and I think I'm going to miss being their sounding board.

_Maybe they can be my sounding board instead?_

Now that I think about it, I realize I had a reason to go shopping today; I also, maybe, sort of, kind of, have a date with the new guy –Hisao Nakai- the mystery-man from 3-3. The context is different, but he did agree to go to the festival at my behest, and there was a silent agreement in his eyes; an expectation that I be there to show him around at least.

It's not quite a date, but it's at least a meeting, and I want to make a good impression. Having already planned on getting a new yukata for the Yamaku Festival, I'm really just doing what I would have done anyway. Knowing there will be a new person whom I might want to impress adds an extra imperative, but I'm not doing anything out of the ordinary just for him.

_Or am I?_

After a light lunch -which consists mainly of tea, cake and Amaya's unending babble- we make our way to our favorite little dress shop. As we enter through the glass door, the ringing bell brings a familiar voice from somewhere near the back of the store, "come in, come in~!" His timbre is light and airy with seemingly boundless energy and a warm lilt. Mister Miyoto runs the Soliloquy Dress Shop, and he is decidedly abnormal.

Amaya is already brushing through the racks headed for our destination as Miyoto leaps up in front of me, beaming a happy smile. "Welcome back, Miss Kurai, Miss Yamamoto," as he says our names, he turns and makes a slight bow toward each of us. "You're looking lovely as always, I lo-ve that streak in your hair, it's so playful and darling~!" he clasps his hands together and wears a dreamy expression as he compliments my hairstyle; I've never had the heart to tell him it's more function than fashion.

Amaya and I exchange a knowing glance. We're both pretty sure he's gay, but we've never brought it up – don't ask don't tell. A man in his thirties with a shock of bleached-white hair, brightly striped or floral shirts, suspenders, casual slacks, and a perpetual grin on his triangular face, Miyoto is almost happier to be working in a dress shop than should be legal. He ushers me forward and I follow past him toward Amaya, who's already looking through different yukata.

Miyoto tosses the measuring tape that perpetually hangs across his neck to the side and places a pencil behind his ear. Bringing his hand up to his chin and narrowing his eyes, but retaining that smile, he puts his questions to words, "yukata, then? Yamaku Festival, I gather?"

It's not really a big mystery, but his quick deduction is a little unnerving. Although, his next question nearly knocks Amaya on the floor; "Is your date taking as much care, I wonder, in preparing for the festival, Miss Yamamoto?"

Nearly dropping the red and black yukata she was looking over, she sputters to try and answer the obviously rhetorical question, "I- well I-"

Miyoto looks her up and down while she collects herself, his eyes bobbing up and down like a basketball. Looking slightly uncomfortable at seeing her reaction, his perpetual smile remains. Never having told anyone their secrets, but seeing how easily Miyoto picked up on Amaya's apparent excitement, and deduced the likely cause, leaves me wondering if I should have done this months ago.

Considering that, I wonder how many people other than myself already know Amaya and Tadao are potentially involved. If Miyoto read it on her face, not specifically about whom, of course, then I wonder how many other people connected the dots. Finally regaining control of herself, Amaya sets her eyes on me, and I remember I'm in the room.

_Existence is a burden at times._

Miyoto turns to me as I speak, "we both need new yukata." He nods and lets out a little sigh, giving Amaya another bow as a sort of apology. We've been coming to this dress shop almost since we started at Yamaku, and I wouldn't want him to think we were scared off by his attempted joke. "It's a new concept for Amaya," I say, getting a raised eyebrow in response. "Dating I mean," I add sheepishly.

He places a hand over his heart and closes his eyes. "Ah, young love. An angel disguised as lust," he slowly turns to Amaya as he speaks with dramatic fervor. After a few seconds he opens his eyes quickly and centers his gaze on her with raised eyebrows, his smile leaving for just a moment. "Use protection," he says flatly, and the smile returns.

Stifling my laughter, I watch Amaya swallow hard and blush deeply, burying her face in the blue yukata she was perusing. the red of her cheeks is practically visible through the fabric. Still hiding, she gives a slight nod. At that, Miyoto clicks his heels together and takes a few strides toward her, his lilting sing-song tone brightening the mood immediately, "well, then. Let's make sure he never forgets tomorrow night~!"

Miyoto, for all his flamboyance, is a skilled stylist. After only an hour of trial and error, he helps each of us find a new yukata. When Amaya steps out of the dressing room, I greet her with a grin and she gives me a twirl for effect. The yukata she chose is mostly white with pink and magenta accents at the sleeves and hem. Over her shoulder there is a bold, black, bramble pattern complete with big, bright pink flowers snaking down and across her hip. Her skinny frame appears more full behind the billowing fabric – accented by the tightly-bound black obi across her waist.

She crosses her arms then lets her left arm drop down beside her as she sways back and forth, looking at me with an excited grin. "It's perfect, right?" she inquires rhetorically.

Miyoto steps in view and leans to the side, his analytical eyes scanning over Amaya like a painting. His tone is more serious than you'd expect in the situation, "I think some pink ribbons in your hair and it'll be perfect, don't you think, Miss Kurai?" He doesn't turn to look at me, still taking in Amaya's new look.

I lean against the wall and sigh contentedly, "I think Tadao will like it."

Amaya straightens up at the mention of his name and glares at me. Miyoto lets out a little chuckle. "Oh, like it was a secret," he says flatly, almost deadpan, "you only came by with him once and I knew." He waves his hand back and forth as he talks, as though it were incredibly old news.

Amaya visibly relaxes, looking tired. "Okay, so it probably isn't a big deal," she comments, sounding despondent. Sitting on a nearby bench in a huff, she lets out a resigned sigh and adds,"he probably won't wanna date me anyway."

Raising an eyebrow, and deciding my discretion came to an end when they agreed to the date, I balk, "no way. He's nuts about you, y'know." My voice full of annoyance, I take a few steps forward and cross my arms. "He's been telling me about it for the past year," I add, dropping all pretense, "while you were feeding me the same kind of information."

She looks up, her face twisting into a scowl, "why didn't you say anything, then?"

Now I'm squirming. Miyoto takes that as a chance to pipe up, "she didn't want to lose the both of you."

Nodding, I realizing he's right. Amaya gets off the bench and comes to wrap me in a hug. Sounding maudlin, she remarks, "don't think like that, Aiko. You're like the mother I never had." Her tiny frame, wrapped in the new yukata, looks so small and childlike, gripping me tightly and sighing deeply.

Returning the hug, I try to keep the mood light. "You have a mother," I state.

"My other mother, then. Or the sister I never had," she says sounding more playful than depressed. Backing away from me, I notice a tear running down her cheek. Biting her lip, she looks away, embarrassed by her outpouring. "You'd never lose me, no matter what. You know that," she says through a sniffle.

Amaya and I have gotten along for two years; and been best friends for most of that time. Digging me out of my depression, she befriended me without judgment while I was still a sullen, volatile bitch. Amaya was unrelenting in her cheerful attempts to make me smile when all I wanted to do was crawl in a corner and be forgotten.

Helping me to acclimate to the school -something she was also going through- Amaya got me to open up and forget the awful time I'd had in middle-school, and try to forget the dreadful events happening at home. Somehow, I never thanked her for that directly, but I think she knows without my having to say anything.

Perhaps that's why I seem so concerned about the new guy. Even while dealing with her own tribulations, Amaya saw fit to drag me along for whatever fun she had planned. Seeing Nakai wearing a sullen frown similar to the one I once wore, I feel like I should offer him the same kind of friendship Amaya showed me - perhaps more.

Recalling all that, I place a hand on her slim shoulder and offer the only reasonable answer, "of course."

After standing in silence for a few moments, Miyoto's sing-song voice picks up the dreary mood, "well, let's see how Miss Kurai looks in her new yukata~!"

We both giggle at hearing the slight lisp in Miyoto's voice as I pick up my orange and black yukata, heading for the changing room. Closing the curtain, I think back to all the worry I'd felt about Amaya and Tadao, and I realize it was silly. Perhaps I really was more worried about myself than them, and I regret that, but I'm making amends.

Glancing in the mirror, it's the first time I've had a chance to look myself over in a few days. Rushing off without breakfast, helping with the festival, skipping meals, losing sleep and a plethora of other problems have been wearing me down a bit lately, and the paleness of my reflection is proof. As I disrobe, I notice my shoulders are sagging lower, and my eyes appear more sunken; likely the result of fatigue. The delicate curve of my hips and the flatness of my stomach have become more -curvy- of late.

_Curvy. Healthy. Well-rounded. Evasive adjectives. Mom taught me well._

Silently, I make a note to get down to the gym for some exercise starting Monday. Perhaps a nice swim would be therapeutic. The yukata smells like cleaning chemicals -that new-clothes smell- as I wrap it around my shoulders and find the sleeves.

When I've got it wrapped right and finish with the bright orange obi, I lean toward the mirror to see how well the colors play against my narrow, full face. The orange floral pattern plays well against the colors of my eyes, and the rounded shapes echo the gentle waving of my dark brown hair.

When I step out, the smile on Miyoto is telling enough, but he speaks anyway, "oh you fill that out nicely, Miss Kurai." He gives a cat-like growl, making a claw-like gesture with his hand, and turns to smile at Amaya.

Amaya frowns. "Yeah she fills out all her clothes like that," she moans, looking down at her chest dejectedly.

Miyoto lets out a brief laugh that I can't tell is real or faked. "You both look lovely," he grins at me and adds, "maybe a little tuck to save your friend some grief?"

I blush fiercely, realizing what he means. "No, I'm sure she'll be fine," I lie. Amaya has been jealous of my chest for years, but there's no need for it to dampen the mood.

Finally, Amaya lifts her head and smiles, "I like how it mirrors the waves of your hair. It kinda makes," she points at my chest, ignoring the pretense, "them... blend into the background." She ends with a half-smile. Rolling my eyes, I share a laugh with Miyoto.

After changing back into our street clothes and quickly paying for the new yukata, we rush out of the store hearing Miyoto's cheery "goodbye, and good luck," somewhere far behind us as we run to the bus station. Arriving just in time to hop on the bus, we can't help but giggle and talk about the upcoming event, regardless of the bemused stares from the other passengers.

When we arrive back at Yamaku, it's nearly six o'clock, so we head straight for the dorms and quickly hide our new yukata in our rooms before heading to the common room for dinner. Tomorrow is the Yamaku Festival, and I don't want to be sleeping on an empty stomach again. As I look around, I notice the other girls are having similar conversations as ours, and at least one of them is a familiar face.

"Naoko." I say, signing at the same time, "staying here tonight? Are you excited about tomorrow?"

Naoko nods, holding up an overnight bag, then squeezes her lips with her finger and thumb, indicating she wants to discuss something without me relaying it to everyone. After I return an affirming nod, she starts signing, [I heard Amaya and Tadao are finally a thing,] she signs, knowing Amaya won't understand.

Shooting Amaya a glance I shrug she just shakes her head, looking over at the TV while I 'talk' with the deaf girl. [Yeah, it's preliminary,] I sign, making an overly-excited face to assuage Amaya's curious glances, [but they're spending tomorrow together.] Apparently, it wasn't as much of a secret as I thought, but I don't mention my musing.

Naoko grins excitedly, but keeps herself from jumping up and down, not wanting Amaya to figure out what we're discussing. Rolling her eyes she signs, [finally. Those two are like an old married couple, they might as well be together.] Shooting her a glance, Naoko grins widely, but Amaya's too engrossed in the TV to notice.

Looking pensive when I look back, Naoko takes a sharp breath and holds it as she asks, [sre you going with the new guy?] Her dark green eyes narrow and shift around uncomfortably, but she's still smiling.

_And there it is._

Someone finally asking the question that had been hanging in the air since yesterday's incident, I clam up a bit for a second. However, actually being faced with the question, I find I have an easy answer, [probably. I kinda convinced him to go, so I should probably show him around – make sure he has a good time.]

Naoko looks like she wants to ask more, but the logic in my response is hard to deny. I may have overreacted to his indifference about the festival, but it doesn't have to be a big deal. If I were to just find him around the grounds and walk around showing him the sights for a while, it wouldn't be a sordid escapade. I'd just be helping a new student have some fun at a strange new school.

_That's my cover-story, anyway._

There's no need to tell Naoko about the part of me desiring more than to be a tour guide. If anything, the lost-puppy look in his eyes makes me want to help him out, even if it remains completely platonic. Still, there's a part of my mind, and maybe my heart, hoping he's interested in more than the tour.

If something comes of it, then fine. He seems like a nice, stable guy when he isn't looking so sullen. After seeing him work through those reports so easily, he seems intelligent and studious, he has a nice smile and, if I can get over myself, might even look past my terrible eating habits, emotional outbursts and sardonic humor.

_A girl can dream, can't she?_

After finishing our meal, and Amaya finishes watching CSI, we head back up to our rooms. Whatever happens tomorrow, I'm going to have a good time. Of course, that won't start until after I cover both my shift and Tadao's. Part of me wonders if I could pawn both shifts off to other 3-1 students, but that might be considered an abuse of power. Damn my decency and integrity. Groaning, I hit the pillow feeling tired enough to sleep through both shifts.

_I hope those two remember me at their wedding._


	4. Chapter 4 Subterfuge

Chapter 4 – Subterfuge

The next morning starts peacefully. Sleeping in for once, I crawl out of bed around nine to have breakfast and get my school uniform on; working at a festival booth is not a job for yukata. Being expected there by ten, I have some time to make myself look a little extra special.

Not knowing exactly how to go about that, I settle on gathering my hair and wrapping it in a short braid down the middle of my neck, leaving a generous portion to hang in front. My eyes still look a little sunken, so I make sure the hair casts some shadows across them to hide the weeks of missing sleep. Finishing with a green ribbon tied around the braid into little finger-like shapes, I smile into the mirror.

Pleased at the result, I grab my laptop and its carry-bag, then bound out the door, making my way out to the festival grounds. The warm sunlight and gentle breeze create a nice warm day, near-perfect festival weather. With the sky so clear, I imagine the temperature will climb as the day wears on, but I'll be in a nice shady booth through the worst of the heat.

Coming into sight of the booth, I see Naoko is already there, and looking chipper as ever. Evidently she started early and already has the game set up. Quietly joining her, I start sorting through the boxes beneath the counter for little stuffed animals, key-chains and other assorted prizes people would be trying to win, and hanging them up around the inside walls.

Unlike the majority of other classrooms, most of which are selling various junk foods, made to order, class 3-1 is responsible for one of the game booths. It's a simple game, really. On a table in the middle of the booth there are twenty-four tiny fish bowls. Each filled with water to the neck, and, sunk into eight of them, there are some colorful plastic goldfish. Players stand about two meters from the closest fish bowls, and try to toss a rubber racket ball into one with a fish.

_It's harder than it sounds._

Remembering a festival like this from long ago, I recall being held up in Dad's arms to try and win a prize playing this exact same game, but this had actually been Naoko's suggestion. When she brought it up during a brainstorming session, a few of the others laughed it off, but I had the final say; and I really liked the idea. The fact that she volunteered to set it up herself assuaged the concerns of my other classmates.

Now she's tapping me on the shoulder, so I turn and inspect her giddy smile. She's a bit taller than Amaya, but still shorter than my five-foot-three frame. Her figure is somewhere in between; having Amaya's narrowness combined with some of my curves. Her school uniform is -as always- pressed and wrinkle-free, but she usually doesn't have the bright red ribbons hanging over her ears – festival fare, I gather. Her hair is dark, forest green and shoulder-length. Usually it's held behind her ears by a dainty barrette, but today it's wrapped in a tight bun with a pair of white chopsticks sticking out on top. Looking her over, I realize how convenient it must be to commute to the school rather than live in the dorms.

Her cheerful expression goes along well with her excited signing, [I love your ribbon~!]

Cracking a smile, I heave a sigh. [Well, I only had a few minutes,] I complain. [You look nice. Are you wearing a yukata later?] I inquire, somewhat rhetorically.

[Of course~!] she beams, pointing to her bag and the carefully-laid-out package nearby. Ever since I've known her, Naoko seems to be able to incorporate a lilt into her signing, it's rather comical, but fitting. [You and Amaya went shopping yesterday, right?] she asks with a knowing smirk.

[Yeah but I'm not changing 'til later,] I say. She bobs her head in an excited nod; I think if Naoko could speak, she'd sound cheerful all the time, like Emi.

_Or Misha._

Continuing to get the booth ready quietly, we soon have the walls covered with brightly colored prizes, and it's time to wait... And wait. Then wait some more. Tadao was supposed to be here from noon until one-thirty, so I'll be at this booth for almost four hours. Happily, the crowds won't start to get big until after noon, so, while the rest of the setup is happening around us, I look down at my bag and decide to pull out my laptop.

Grinning at the start-up sound, I quickly slip into a game of Call of Duty 2. I'll consider it a study of world history if anyone asks. It occurs to me that I'd rather be playing online, but the school doesn't maintain a network connection outside a few key areas of the building, mainly the library, and they don't reach far enough out here.

A little past ten thirty, Tadao's grim visage suddenly appears in front of me. Feeling him tap the counter I'm leaning against, I look away from the computer to meet his sullen gaze. There's a panicked look in his eyes, and he's rolling a half-chewed pencil between his fingers. Realizing what this conversation will be about, I offer him a sweet smile and half-closed eyes, blinking excessively. My look seems to make him even more nervous for a second, and he turns to look around at the other booths, fidgeting like a criminal informant – I can almost taste his trepidation.

As he looks around apprehensively, I notice he's not in his school uniform. He's wearing black jeans, a gray hipster t-shirt that I can't read because he won't stop moving, and black tennis shoes. Every few seconds he reaches a hand up and fiddles with the gold chain around his neck; at the end of it is a tiny cross, one of the few things that remain of his parents, he once told me. He looks like he might have a heart attack if someone doesn't break the tension, so I tilt my head and give him an opening. "Nervous?" I ask.

He fake-laughs at the rhetoric, but quickly stifles it, drawing his face into a dark expression. He leans forcefully against the counter, making the booth shake. Looking around at the booth apologetically, he takes a deep breath. His wild eyes calm and he flicks the ruined pencil away before he asks, "does it show?"

Laughing hysterically, I back away from the counter to avoid the swat at my arm. He swallows hard and looks toward the back of the booth, only now noticing Naoko. Tensing for a second, he quickly remembers she can't hear him. "This is your fault," he accuses.

_Moi? Little old me?_

Wiping tears out of my eyes from the bout of laughter, I pat the air and shake my finger at him. "You brought this on yourself," I say, still giggling.

Frowning, he and puts his head down and starts to say, "I guess I did, but-"

Biting his words back, he lifts his head, centering his eyes on me with a quizzical gaze before accusing, "this wouldn't be happening if you hadn't said anything." Throwing his hands up in exasperation, he narrows his eyes and remarks, "I thought we had a deal?"

_Speech time!_

Taking a deep breath, I don't hold anything back. "It was time. The festival is the perfect day for it, and you've been at each other for a year. Even Naoko knew," I say, pointing my thumb over my shoulder for emphasis, "and I'm sure the rest of the school does." Waving my hands around at nothing in particular to emphasize my point, I center my gaze on him and continue, "the only ones who remained blissfully ignorant were probably the two of you." As I spoke, I watched his face move from embarrassment to anger, then bewilderment. Finishing by pointing at myself and grinning proudly, I summarize, "I just turned your parallel lines into a tangent."

After a few seconds spent scowling at me, he steps back from the counter and folds his arms, finally settling on a serene smile and offering a sagely nod. Once it sinks in a bit more, he raises an eyebrow and begins to ask, "She's really been-"

I interject, "yes."

He points, asking "and you?" Now with both eyebrows raised.

I sigh, "daily."

He looks up again like yesterday, contemplating -turning the gears- and then looks back, offering a bow, "I apologize. That cannot have been a comfortable arrangement for you."

That sounded a little practiced, but that isn't anything new; he probably expected this outcome and had that reply prepared. Returning the bow, I explain, "nobody's fault, really. You could have done something months ago, and so could I – and so could Amaya. Let's just be happy that torment is over."

He offers another sagely nod and leans back, stuffing his hands in his pockets. I get the feeling he's been nervously asking indirect questions until he calmed down enough to ask, "speaking of torment, have you seen Amaya?"

_Ah, there it is._

I decide to act a little coy; I think he deserves as much. "I see her most every day, so, yes," I offer him raised eyebrows, but he doesn't look amused.

His face sours and he flips his head back to toss a stray hair off his nose. "I mean today. Have you seen her today?" he asks in monotone, leveling his eyes and pointedly keeping a smile off his face.

_Tadao's murder-face is less scary than adorable._

Leaning against the counter, I look down at my laptop and notice that a stray NPC had apparently killed me.

_Sigh..._

Turning up at him, I smile and reply, "no, I didn't see her this-morning before I got here, and she hasn't been by."

He pivots his waist around and scans the area, presumably looking for Amaya. The consternation on his face is palpable. He looks adorably lost, but I think there's a hint of concern in his demeanor, and it's making me wonder how much he worries about Amaya's condition. He doesn't get to see her as often as I do, and hasn't known her for quite as long, so he doesn't really know how severe her condition had been – or could be.

He didn't even know she was epileptic at last year's festival; she just told him the noise frightened her. The infrequency of her attacks doesn't seem to dawn on him, so I decide to offer some advice, "she's not a porcelain doll. You don't have to worry so much."

"I'm just nervous," he states. There are more words hung up in his head; I can see him trying to piece them together, so I wait. Finally he finishes the thought, "what if she doesn't show up?"

It's a simple question, and I wonder at how long it took for him to ask, but he's not great at conversation; usually spending too much time thinking about what to say. I decide to give a simple answer, "Then I'll go find her and give her a swift boot in your direction." Finishing with a wink, I look back down at my laptop.

He shuffles a bit and continues scanning around, "Well, if you see her-"

"I'll tell her you were looking for her," I finish his request. Waving my hand to shoo him away, I suggest, "go, wander around a bit. I'm sure she's just taking her time getting dressed." He doesn't know about the new yukata, but I think he probably assumed she would be wearing one, so I decide to drop a hint. "Look for white, pink and black, with ribbons in her hair," I describe absently, focusing on the loading screen.

Not seeing his nod as I wait for the loading bar to fill, I can still sense his thanks. hearing him wander away, I restart the campaign mode and go back to letting time sink away. Naoko asks about why Tadao was here, but I'm less specific than she probably desired. I don't mind if the whole school knows they're finally dating, but I think the specifics should be between them, rather than public information. Of course, I'll be squeezing all the information I can out of Amaya at my earliest convenience; I'm not the public, I'm her best friend - I need to know.

_At least that's what I tell myself._

The morning turns into afternoon, and I continue playing my game in between working with the slow trickle of contestants. Naoko's shift ends at noon, and she departs, giddily darting toward the girls dorm to change, when Yoko arrives to relieve her.

Realizing I haven't talked to Yoko much, I recall she sits in the far corner of the class; a little too far for us to end up grouping together. Having just transferred from a regular school at the beginning of the year, she hasn't been around long enough for us to really have met; even though she's only a few doors down in the dorms. Mentioning she's of French descent and has Canadian parents, her freckled, cream-colored skin and bright-red locks of curly hair suddenly make sense.

Apparently she's deaf in her right ear -opposite of mine- but hasn't bothered learning to sign yet. She speaks flawless Japanese, and, having Canadian parents, she also speaks flawless English – as well as some French. I envy her mastery of English, especially. We share some stories about growing up with balance problems, but the conversation is mostly light; I avoid talking about being teased. As time wears on, I spend most of it staring blankly at my monitor trying to blast my way through Nazis in the British campaign.

Right around twelve thirty, a familiar face -or pair of faces, I should say- appears in front of me. One of them wearing her determined grin, and the other grinning her Cheshire cat smile, Shizune and Misha stand side-by-side wearing their school uniforms – rather plainly. I'm a bit surprised to see Misha isn't wearing any extra decoration, but Shizune probably wouldn't allow her that kind of leeway.

The Student Council should appear official at the festival, Shizune might say, since they were so heavily involved with the production. Acting as overseers to ensure everything is running properly, or at least that's the idea, I think. Mostly, Shizune just prefers to look official even when it isn't necessary. She takes the Class President title seriously – to a fault at times.

_Their presence is somewhat unexpected, but am I surprised? No._

Standing, I closing the laptop to hide my frivolous pass-time and greet them with a smile and a nod. Misha's lilting voice -which I'm almost certain Naoko could hear if she hadn't left- follows Shizune's deft signing, blissfully ignoring the fact that I don't need the translation. "Hi, Aiko-chan~! Shicchan was wondering if you've had a busy morning." Her drill-like pink hair bobs playfully as she speaks, distracting me from what she's saying for a moment.

Realizing the situation, I wonder at the odd question. They both know the festival proper hasn't actually started yet, but here they are asking how busy it has been. Shizune is usually much more direct than that, and I'm a little concerned why she's skirting the issue; whatever it may be. Signing back, I don't bother speaking, [It's been pretty slow, really. Though you already knew that since the festivities haven't officially started yet. Why are you here, really?]

Shizune places her hands on her hips and gives me a stern look, but it softens quickly and she leans back, grinning deviously, [I heard about your discussion with Nakai.] Misha starts to speak, but Shizune elbows her side; desiring to remain covert, apparently.

_I don't like where this is going._

Swallowing a lump in my throat, I try to smile, but realize it's somewhat futile. Having never been particularly good at hiding my emotions, I accept whatever expressions cross my face as I answer, [yeah. He was saying that he might just sleep the day away. I couldn't let him do that.]

Shizune smiles brightly and signs, [Neither could I.] Now she turns and looks past Misha, stepping to the side slightly, that devious smile returning as she glances toward a figure looking in the other direction.

_Uh oh..._

It takes a few seconds for the realization to hit, or maybe for the disbelief to wear away, but I feel my eyes widening anyway. I also feel my cheeks getting hot, and I look away toward my laptop. They brought Nakai out here with them, and now all I have the sense to do it stare blankly at my closed laptop.

Feeling it more than I hear it, I notice Shizune gently tapping on the counter, trying to get my attention. Looking up slowly, I hear Misha's laugh almost immediately. "Wahaha~!" she booms, tossing her head back.

Nakai is still looking away, but I see him visibly flinch upon hearing the booming laughter. Shizune starts signing again, and I find myself somewhat distracted, so she bumps Misha to translate. Her clandestine whisper is still loud, but it's closer to the level of normal speech. "We had to go brow-beat him into getting out of his dorm room~!" she says, turning her gaze back toward Nakai.

_They went to his dorm room? Isn't that a little too forward? _

_Well, they are the Student Council, so I guess it's within their boundaries... but still._

_What are they planning?_

Misha is still talking, but the whisper begins to fade as she's clearly more excited than she ought to be, "Hicchan tried to weasel out of it, but Shicchan convinced him to go for a walk with us, and he explained about your im-pass-ion-ed speech." Listening to her hang on the big word makes me smile reflexively.

By now I'm looking back at Shizune, finally tearing my gaze away from Nakai's backside -okay, I was staring- so she gives Misha another bump and continues signing, [He said he was inspired to come, but didn't know how to find you. We decided to show him.]

_Oh. Oh wait! Oh no..._

Smiling despite my sudden discomfort, I see Shizune patting the air. Leaning close, conspiratorially, she signs close to her body, [The game's afoot, Miss Kurai.]

The cryptic challenge is confusing, but the narrowed look in her eyes and the competitive, cat-like grin on her face are quite unsettling. Misha's beaming smile would never have been a solid indicator of anything, so looking to her won't help me figure this out.

_Is she declaring a war for Nakai's affections?_

If that's the case, she's being rather fair about it; bringing him right to me on the day of the festival. As Shizune leans away again, establishing her cocky grin and placing a hand on her hip, I wonder how she plans to fight this war – if it is a war. Having seen her playRisk, I know she's somewhat of a master strategist -and manipulator- but I never thought she would go so far as to turn something like this into a contest.

Shizune starts signing, still grinning cockily, [I understand you're taking Yoshida's shift, so you won't be able to escort Nakai around until a bit later.] She flashes a triumphant smile, [Therefore, Misha and I shall accompany him until your shift ends.]

Frowning, I realize her game. If there's one thing I know about Shizune, it's that she knows all is fair in love and war, so, if it's a war she wants, it's a war she'll get. Quickly deciding to make a play of my own, I use a secret weapon Shizune can't possibly possess – at least not directly.

Remembering our conversation in the math lab -specifically about wanting me to call him Hisao- I call out in the sweetest, most lilting, happy voice I can manage, "hey Hisao, you made it out~!" As he turns, I offer a sweet, girly smile accompanied by a fast-paced wave, beckoning him over.

_Where was that confidence two days ago?_

Shizune casts a scowl at me, understanding I've figured out her plan. As Nakai wanders over, I notice that he's still in his school uniform – with that dorky sweater-vest. I shouldn't say dorky, though, since it seems to suit him so well.

_Eclectic, maybe._

Watching him, I wonder if he even brought any regular clothes with him; other than sweater-vests, of course, since this one looks different – it's argyle. Perhaps he was rushed to move here and left most of his things behind, or maybe whatever backwater burg he hails from doesn't have any good shopping centers. Keeping those perplexing thoughts off my face rather successfully, I smile contentedly as he steps up into the space between Shizune and Misha.

Wearing a sleepy smile, he greets me, "morning Aiko." Looking like he just woke up, he scans around the inside of the booth with those big green -wait, they're brown- irises.

_Must have been the florescent lights._

"It's already passed noon, y'know," I chide, looking toward Misha. Apparently, with Nakai between them, it's difficult for her to sign everything to Shizune. A happy coincidence, I decide.

_Should I feel bad for using Shizune's deafness against her? No._

"Y-yeah, well. I slept in," he explains, stretching into a yawn. "I was about to head out to try and find you when these two," he points to his sides, indicating the duo, "appeared at my door ready to drag me to the festival, kicking and screaming." He grins widely, disarming Shizune's scowl. Misha is getting some of the conversation across, evidently.

Misha breaks out laughing, scaring some of the nearby festival-goers into a quicker pace, and Shizune starts signing. With Nakai between them, Misha can't see, so she sputters a bit, but remains quiet. [Nice move,] Shizune signs, dipping into a slight bow. [We'll be back just before Yoshida's shift ends.]

"Thank you," I say, acknowledging her deference to my tactical advance. I don't bother signing it, but Shizune understands my meaning; she answers with a slight nod as I explain to Nakai, "I would have come and found you a bit later, but I'm trapped here for a while." Glancing back at the inside of the booth, I see Yoko thumbing through a box, trying not to listen; though I don't think she's trying hard. She stands up quickly, realizing I've noticed her for the first time since Shizune and Misha arrived.

Turning back to Nakai, I smile and continue explaining, "I'll be here until one-thirty with Yoko." I point a thumb over my shoulder, indicating the tall, red-haired girl. "These two have graciously decided to help show you around until then," I smile and nod at each as I speak.

Nakai sputters, "O-Oh." He looks a little deflated.

_Maybe he was expecting me to abandon the booth?_

That just wouldn't be proper, though. Then again, maybe he's still being bombarded with Student Council recruitment requests and isn't looking forward to walking around with them for an hour. He looks to Misha, then Shizune and shrugs. "Well, I'll be back then," he says in a hopeful tone.

_Keep your composure, Kurai._

Grinning, I try to hold the blush back, which seems to make it all the more fierce. Looking back down at my laptop nonchalantly, I pop it open this time, gracefully hiding the blush behind my hair. Nakai steps back a bit, realizing he's blocking the other two from conversing. Soon after, Misha starts signing and speaking, "we'll be back in about an hour, Aiko-chan~!"

As she speaks, I think of another card to play. Needing time to change into my yukata, I innocently ask, "can you make it ninety minutes?" Not bothering to look up I explain, "I might have to wait for my replacement" It's a tactical lie, but a plausible circumstance. Since I'm looking away, they can't get a read the deception on my face, so Misha just signs it back to Shizune.

_I might actually be winning this little exchange._

They both turn away and Shizune signs something back that I can't see. Misha speaks again a moment later, "alright, Aiko-chan, we'll be back around two, then~! Don't tell her we'll be watching, Misha." She stops and covers her mouth, looking nervously at Shizune. "Oops~! Wahaha~!" her laughter seems to shake the key-chains hanging in the booth, making them rattle – maybe it was just the breeze, though.

Shizune glares at her, but it almost looks practiced. There isn't quite as much bluster in the look, and that makes me think this is an attempted psych-out. If it is, I think she knows I'll realize her scheme, but it's bound to work anyway. Even if I don't really think they'll be watching -they'll be wandering around with Nakai, presumably- it will still make me jumpy and self-conscious.

_One last gut-punch to keep me honest, I guess._

Realizing I'll have to take special care when I weave my way back through the crowds to my dorm so I can change, I nod at Shizune with narrowed eyes. She offers a sweet smile before turning away, beckoning Misha and Nakai to follow with a loud snap of her fingers.

When they're gone, Yoko walks up to the counter next to me and smirks. "So, Shizune declared war, I take it," she surmises with a smirk. A cat-like grin replaces the smirk and she adds, "you can take her."

Evidently she picked up on the conversation, and figured out what was being said, even though she could only have caught snippets of the discussion. Uncertain how she could know I'd be capable of defeating Shizune -if that's what this comes to- I smile dumbly and nod at her vote of confidence. I quietly hope she's right - if not for my sake, then for Nakai's.

The look on his face as Shizune paraded him away was somewhere between confusion and distress, and I wonder how far he is from breaking down and joining the Student Council. I also wonder whether the interest he seemed to have in me is greater or lesser than his interest in Shizune – which was more apparent in hindsight. Maybe he was just being courteous, though. Still, the idea of competing for his affection is somewhat off-putting morally, but I'm not the one who tossed the gauntlet.

Misha's slip of the tongue -a tactical psychological bomb, as it were- keeps me looking up from my laptop as the afternoon continues. Yoko doesn't say much as the crowds start getting busier. She's not used to running a booth like this -it being her first year at the Yamaku Festival- so she defers to my judgment whenever someone shows up at the booth to play the fish-bowl game.

Making a point to quickly fill empty hooks with more prizes from the boxes, she ensures the walls look nicely stocked with plenty of variety. I do most of the talking, and the crowds begin piling up such that I hide my laptop back in its bag, joining in with the laughter and exclamations from players and spectators alike. When the announcement comes over the loud-speaker that the festival has officially begun, we can barely hear it over the jovial crowd.

Reflexively checking my watch anyway, I know my -Tadao's- shift is up in thirty minutes, but I don't want to be caught unaware. Repeatedly glancing into the crowds, I keep a look out for the most distinct indicator of Shizune's likely presence; Misha's pink hair. Although I wonder if she might send Misha to stalk around nearby, just to distract me and further my nervousness. However, I doubt she'd send her translator away unless Nakai understood sign – which I know he doesn't. She could pass notes, I guess, but she hates that practice.

Yoko starts to take a more active role in the ordeal as she seems to be getting a lot of attention. The crowd around here isn't used to seeing foreigners, so they have a lot of questions; they don't realize she was actually raised in Japan. As we're collecting yen and dolling out prizes, she explains how her father, Pierre Guidot, was a businessman from Canada who moved to Japan with his wife in the nineties to fill an executive position. Evidently her parents gave their daughter a Japanese name in honor of the continental change, but I think it's just as likely a nod to The Beatles.

Observing the crowd's complimentary interest in her, and getting to know her a little better, I lose all track of time. When our two replacements, Toru Tanaka and Jun Uematsu, arrive, we continue working with the crowd until I happen to glance at my watch. Leaping back at the startling realization that I've wasted almost fifteen minutes of my changing time, I duck down, grab my laptop, wave a happy farewell to the remaining trio and dart away as quickly as my feet -and my balance- will take me.

_Spectacular. So glad I could stick with the plan._

Having no time for it, I don't bother checking for Shizune or Misha's prying eyes as I push my way into the dorms and dash up the steps, down the hall and into my room. Safely behind the door, I lean against it and toss my laptop, gently, onto my bed. After taking a moment to breathe -I just ran faster than I have in weeks- I dig out my new yukata and get to changing.

Looking at my watch repeatedly seems to waste more time than just going about the dressing, but I can't help myself. Like I'm being held in a pit with a bladed pendulum slowly swinging overhead, mocking my need to rush, begging me to look at it over and over as my doom approaches. Of course, it's not that dramatic; I'm not facing an execution. However, if I'm late, Shizune will see it as a defeat on my part, and I have no intention of letting her win.

Finally, I tie the obi around my waist and slip into the decorative, green geta –sandals- that match the ribbon in my hair. Recalling having painted my toenails a few nights ago, I'm glad for a moment that I'm an insomniac. Standing in front of the mirror, I look myself over. The yukata fits comfortably, highlighting my curvy figure, and the pattern works wonderfully with my hair; just as it did yesterday afternoon. Seeing my content smile, I'll have to remember to thank Miyoto for his excellent design sense.

_Later, though. _

With my hair done up the way it is with the green ribbon, I decide I look rather stunning and cute in a girly way, and I hope that's what Nakai thinks; I also hope I'm not overdoing things. This is just a tour, I force myself to remember.

_Right?_

Taking a last look at my watch, I realize I have just enough time to walk, slowly, confidently, down to the booth to await Shizune's return with Misha and Nakai. Deciding to be cautious, I lock my door; in the event Shizune decides to do reconnaissance while Nakai and I are out wandering. For some reason I doubt she'd stoop that low, but, who knows how far she's willing to go, having decided to set up a competition like this; it's an unsettling thought.

Of course, knowing I have enough time doesn't stop me from running all the way there – albeit at a slower pace than my mad dash to the dorms, now that I'm wearing these shoes. Smiling and nodding at the approving looks -and cat calls- from Toru and Jun, I make it back to the booth and calmly walk around the back. My yukata draws a few grins from the crowd as well.

Yoko appears to have noticed the time and vanished soon after I did, and I muse at the depleted crowd that seemed to result from her absence. The two boys are uncertain why I came back, but I don't get time to explain – not that I would. When Shizune appears behind the crowd with Misha and Nakai in tow, I step out around the booth into view.

Making a face somewhere between shock and anger upon seeing me in the yukata, she folds her arms in front of her and nods. The look she offers seems to say, "brilliant move," though I don't think she would use such an emphatic adjective.

Misha dances over to me and happily giggles, seemingly ignoring my deception; or she doesn't realize it was deceptive. "Wahaha~!" Her laugh makes me cringe, but I smile anyway, trying to turn my deaf ear in her direction. She lightly touches my shoulders, grinning wildly, and looks me over. "I love your yukata~! You look so pretty~!" she compliments. Turning away, she asks Nakai, "doesn't she, Hicchan~?" He blushes fiercely and shuffles his feet, not giving an answer to the loaded question.

_I wonder if he understands Shizune and I are competing? _

Maybe he's just nervous around girls, or, worse, maybe he doesn't think I'm pretty. Then again, he's blushing so hard, I think his face might pop. Shizune looks on with a wondering expression, having no real idea what we're saying since her translator is looking the other way and I'm not filling in the blanks.

Misha steps off to the side and starts signing to Shizune, and there's suddenly nothing between me and Nakai except a few meters of air. He's smiling now, and nodding; It's kind of sweet and innocent. The blush is fading, but he can't seem to look anywhere but at me. Smiling back, I hope his is a silent answer to Misha's blundering -or tactical- question.

We lock eyes, awkwardly at first, but we both relax quickly. Misha's boisterous voice fades into the ether, which is very odd considering how loud she is, as we -Nakai and I- stand there, each lost in a contemplative gaze. As I stare back -and I know I'm staring, but so is he- I wonder why I feel so light and entranced.

The sounds around us seem to go silent, and I feel like I've slipped out of time. Maybe this is what it's like to pass through one of those portals in that game I feel like I was playing ten years ago. Standing between worlds in the silence, locked in a friendly gaze that looks a lot like your own.

He has almost a child-like quality to his posture, even though he's slouching a bit and keeps pawing at his chest. I barely know this guy, and I've barely said anything to him –nor him to me- but there's something in his eyes that begs to be known. It's mysterious and adorable, and I can't seem to look away.

Suddenly, Shizune steps between us, breaking the spell. The sound of the crowds and Misha's lilt fill the air again almost immediately, and I turn my gaze down to my feet. I wriggle my toes absently as Shizune starts signing something, but I have my eyes averted. Misha's voice echoes in my ear and I finally look up as she speaks, "Earth to Aiko-chan~! Shicchan asked you a question."

Looking at Shizune, I breathe an apologetic-sounding, "what?"

She grins wickedly at seeing my dreamy expression and rolls her eyes as she repeats the question. For once, Misha doesn't translate, [are you well enough to show him around?]

There's a hint of concern in her look, and I realize I might have appeared as though I might pass out during the extended gaze. They don't seem to have noticed I was staring at Nakai. Having melded out of reality for a few seconds, it seems, I must look a bit flustered, but I don't think the reason bears mentioning; at least they aren't saying anything.

_Oh, am I making fun of the mute, again? Ha!_

Nodding, I shake my head and start signing. [Yeah, sorry. Little dizzy spell is all,] I lie again. This time I don't look away; I think I'm getting the hang of lying, as much as I find that thought disturbing.

Backing away, she heaves a sigh and offers an understanding smile. Signing once again, Misha dutifully translates, "we leave Hicchan in your capable hands, then, Aiko-chan~! We've shown him some of the booths already, but I don't think he'll mind repeat visits~!" She turns and winks at Nakai, who looks away and kicks the ground; another child-like gesture. She turns and throws her head back in a booming, "Wahaha~!" In response, somewhere in a tree, I swear I can see a bird exploding into a shower of feathers.

Shizune beckons her over and, after a nodding her cat-like grin at me, the two of them walk away, headed toward the dorms. Watching them go, I wonder if they have master keys.

_They are the Student Council, so maybe... Was locking my door futile?_

Paling a little at the thought, I brush it aside. I still don't think Shizune would sink that low.

_I guarantee this isn't over, though._


	5. Chapter 5 Near Miss

_**Chapter 5 - Near-Miss**_

Shizune and Misha disappear behind one of the outer walls, and I turn away. As my head settles back in the other direction, I remember Nakai is there – somehow I had forgotten. Standing there dumbly, I also realize that I have absolutely no idea what I've gotten myself into. Having never walked around the festival with a boy before -Tadao doesn't count- I have no clue what he would even want to see. As I'm mulling this over, I notice he's got one hand on the back of his neck and the other in his pocket, looking equally perplexed.

_Okay, the first step is to ask a question – I think._

_Would he want to try the games first? Would that make me seem too forward? Would he rather walk around first? Has he seen the rest of the school grounds yet? Does he wear anything other than sweater-vests? Where is he from? What does he like? Who are his parents? How did he end up at Yamaku?_

_Why isn't he saying anything!?_

Right, I haven't asked anything; I'm just staring at the ground near his feet -his shoes are obviously new- trying to think of the right question to ask, but I've got nothing. He isn't helping, either. Staring at nothing with a dumb expression, running a hand through his messy hair.

This is stupid. We sat through writing those reports comfortably enough, and we even talked a little. I yelled at him during lunch, but it was for good reason. He's here because I told him he should be here, but he also got dragged out of his dorm by the Student Council.

_Does Shizune like him, or is she just teasing me? Does Misha sleep with that drill haircut? Does she know how awkward she made this? Stop asking yourself stupid questions and concentrate!_

Steadying myself, I push the myriad questions and observations out of my head by closing my eyes; a gesture I hope he thinks is merely contemplative. I'm supposed to be fairly socially adept, Amaya says so; though I might be losing practice interacting with jar-heads and losers via online games.

_How is this really different? I can see him, that's how it's different._

Trying to act nonchalant, I open my eyes and meet his gaze again, but I immediately glance away awkwardly.

_I should take a break from gaming. It's stunting my social skills._

Finally a single, stilted word -a solitary syllable- flies up through my throat and finds its way over my tongue into the air. "So..." I say, trailing off immediately since I hadn't thought of the rest of the sentence.

_Excellent, you managed to get one word out. You're practically a philosopher in this conversation._

He sputters back with a few solid, nervous laughs and starts, "I- Um... We were- Uh..." His free hand, the one that was running through his hair a second ago, makes weird gestures with his words, if you could call them words, and his expression changes between confusion, shock, and abject terror with each utterance.

_This is going well. Okay, so he's not great at this, either. We can be awful at it together. Work with me, Hisao!_

Finally thinking of something that sounds almost like a conversation starter, I open my mouth and the words actually make it past my lips. "Are you liking the festival so far?" I ask with a grin; more for pride at finally piecing a complete sentence together than any kind of emotional attachment. Meanwhile, he gets this far-away look and starts glancing around at the festival grounds absently.

_He's thinking. He's thinking? Stop thinking and say something! This is killing me!_

Finally after what feels like a year and a half of waiting, he finally grins and nods. That's all; a slight half-grin and a single bounce of his head. Not a word, not a sound, just a nod and a smile. If there were crickets out this early, they would rise in a crescendo. He continues wandering his gaze around the festival grounds, looking oblivious. Starting to giggle nervously, I wonder if he's doing this on purpose – probably not.

_I need input, dammit! I can't run this conversation by myself!_

Turning my own wandering gaze around the festival grounds, I start looking for something to talk about. Barely conscious of it, I catch a smell that I recognize; something simple, a familiar odor from my childhood that sparks an idea – one I probably should have thought up two years ago when this conversation started.

Glancing back at him, my mouth hangs open and my brow furrows quizzically. Trying hard to speak, the question catches in my throat and the associated thought is obliterated by my inaction. Instead of asking an intelligent question of some kind, I just sigh loudly.

_Apparently, the tales of my social prowess are greatly exaggerated._

Taking a moment to think, I remember Shizune's challenge. Whatever else it involves, clearly my objective today is to communicate with this brown-eyed mystery-man and show him some kind of good time around the festival I had claimed to be a joyful experience. Unless I do something, anything, she wins by default.

_Wins what?_

Whatever the prize, I don't want to lose; not to her. She may be the Class President, but I have my pride and I'm more adept at social graces than her – she can't even talk. Shizune is equipped quite well enough otherwise, though, and that motivates me to take every advantage; losing is not an option. What the ultimate prize is for winning doesn't matter – not right now.

_Is Hisao the prize? Is that how this works?_

Pushing the contemptible internal monologue aside, I settle my nerves with a deep breath, close my eyes, and will myself to regain control of my composure. Opening my eyes, I assume as sweet a smile as I can manage, and convert my broken thoughts into a question, "have you... eaten anything yet?"

_Holy cheese-balls you finally said something marginally intelligent!_

This is a break-through; someone needs to throw confetti and cue the marching band. As soon as I finish asking, clarity seems to dawn across his confused visage. Shaking his head emphatically, he says, "no. Shizune insisted I wait until I met up with you."

_Success! A dialogue opens!_

Realizing he's not finished talking, I watch him glancing around almost like he's expecting to be jumped by a mugger – or the Student Council. "She said," he pauses and narrows his eyes, "or Misha did, rather..." His mumbling is barely above a whisper, but anything sounds better than that uncomfortable silence. Straightening himself and squaring his shoulders, his voice comes back stronger as he finishes his thought, "she said since you were the one who insisted I come out today, they'd leave things like that to you."

_Where was all this clarity when this stuttering contest started three years ago?_

Leaving him unfed could be part of Shizune's game, but, choosing to forget the awkwardness of his reply, I nod happily. Pleased and relieved that we've gotten past the initial awkwardness, I step over to his side tentatively, and sweep my trailing hand across the festival grounds, remarking, "well, pick your poison."

He looks at me sidelong for a second before glancing out around at the booths. After a few seconds he looks back at me questioningly and asks, "I dunno what to pick, could you recommend something?"

Smiling broadly, I finally remember what I was going to ask him before my throat betrayed me. "I was going to suggest takoyaki," I explain, pointing out the booth in question. "But there's dumplings, noodles, soup," I describe, pointing out their respective booths, "all sorts of things."

Watching him look at the booths, he seems to have relaxed, but he does keep a hand on his chest, rubbing his sternum absently. His narroed eyes seem to indicate thinking, similar to Tadao's far-away look, but he doesn't stare at the sky; instead his eyes appear to stare at nothing in particular as he focuses inward.

Turning a raised eyebrow at me, he finally asks, "Is the takoyaki good? I haven't had it in a while."

Shocked out of my musing, I quickly answer, "I highly recommend it."

"Well, then. You're the one with experience – lead on." He takes his hand out of his pocket and waves me ahead. Bowing graciously, which probably looks a little strange in the yukata, I start toward the takoyaki booth. As I pass in front of him, I wonder if he's being gentlemanly or just trying to get a look at my behind.

_I shouldn't think like that, he seems nice; nice boys don't have thoughts like- _

_Oh, who am I kidding? I'm not that naïve._

_Besides, do I really mind after I spent at least fifteen seconds staring at his-_

"Hey, Aiko~!" A familiar voice breaks me out of those lewd thoughts, and I turn to see Amaya and Tadao, arm-in-arm, walking towards us from across the grassy field. For a second I forget Nakai is there and I wave cheerfully. The two of them banter playfully, though quietly, as they walk over and each offers a slight bow.

Evidently the consternation Tadao was feeling has dissipated; no longer glancing around nervously or destroying a pencil. Amaya accepts his hand around her waist unflinchingly. You would almost think they had already been dating for months rather than a matter of hours; though that wouldn't exactly be far from the truth. They seem to walk like they're only one person, falling perfectly in step – it's disgustingly adorable.

"Nice yukata, Aiko," Tadao states, nodding with approval.

Amaya steps away from Tadao and playfully bats at my hair, bounding around me like a child. "Oh I love the ribbon, it suits you per-fectly~!" she exclaims, the wistful lilt in her voice reminiscent of Misha – though Amaya isn't nearly as loud. Along with the pink, white and black yukata, she has a pink barrette holding her hair back, and there are pink ribbons tied to it, trailing down behind her.

Turning her gaze to my side, she cocks her head to ask, "who's your friend?"

Recalling he's there, I look over at Nakai and offer a smile, which he returns in kind. After our three-year stuttering contest, and the associated awkwardness, I feel strangely comfortable standing next to Nakai – Hisao, I should say.

_He wanted me to call him Hisao. I should remember that._

Remembering Amaya was out when he came for lunch, I realize they've never met. Stuttering a few prepositions, embarrassed by my social gaff, and maybe feeling a little flustered, I glance at Hisao, but he seems busy inspecting my friends. After what feels like twenty minutes, but was really more like two seconds, I hold a hand out toward Hisao, the other firmly planted on my hip, and introduce him, "this is our new classmate Hisao Nakai. He's in 3-3."

Amaya's grin is terribly devious as the realization hits her. "Oh, right, your new boyfriend," she says flatly.

Swatting at her hip with the hand I was holding toward Hisao, I just barely brush her obi as she leaps back on her toes. Tadao grins, shaking his head, and I almost want to kick his shins. His silence on the matter saves him, but I also don't want Hisao to think I frequently kick friends who make fun of me, even if it's probably true.

"He's not my-" Stopping that thought, I look at Hisao. He's blushing and looks nervous again, with his hand moving up to his sternum. Dropping that statement, I turn to glare at Amaya's giggling face. "I'm just showing him around." A quick check on Hisao shows the nervousness dissipating into a half-smile. It's not much, but it's something.

Amaya quiets her giggling and leans in, her dimples making her serious look appear much cuter than it should. "Seems more like you're showing him off," she holds her arms out, as if indicating the entire crowd.

Tadao finally interjects before I can slap the crooked smile off Amaya's face, "ladies, please!" Nodding toward Hisao with a wry smirk, he continues, "if you're going to fight, please let the two of us gather a crowd."

Amaya and I glare at Tadao with seething rage for a few seconds, but it breaks into giggling almost immediately. Hisao's quizzical expression when I look back is telling; he just looks bewildered by the whole conversation – I haven't introduced my friends yet.

Calming myself I start making the introductions. "This is Amaya Yamamoto," I point at her and smile. She responds by folding her arms and grinning widely. "She was out sick when you came by," I explain, to which Hisao nods. Pointing at Tadao, I continue, "this is Tadao Yoshida. I know you met, but I'm not sure if you got his name."

"I hadn't," Hisao admits, offering his hand to shake Tadao's. Amaya offers a wave, fluttering her eyelids and sticking her tongue out at me. Hisao starts chuckling as he looks between us and finally says, "you've known each other a while, I gather."

I explain, "Amaya and I have been dorm-neighbors since our first year, and Tadao's been in our classes since our second." It's technically true, even though I've known Tadao almost as long as Amaya.

"I'm partially deaf in both ears," Tadao explains in a matter-of-fact tone. Then, pointing to his left ear, he continues, "This one's worse off, hence the aid. Neurofibromatosis two." Always using the scientific name for it, Tadao typically introduces his condition before even mentioning his own name. Hisao doesn't appear to have any idea what it means, but Tadao just grins and explains, "it's a degenerative disorder, and someday," he pauses, widening his eyes to emphasize his next point, "I might be blind, too."

That last part shocks Hisao visibly, but Tadao's disarming smile alleviates his apprehension. When he first came to Yamaku, Tadao stood in front of the class to introduce himself and explained the condition in its entirety. Eloquently speaking and signing every word to the entire class, like he was reading it from a script, I remember finding the action rather endearing. Later, he told me he does it so people don't whisper and wonder behind his back, which is uncomfortable for everyone involved.

Amaya giggles nervously and buries her face in Tadao's arm; her being on the other end of the spectrum. She would rather have people find out when she has a seizure, or never find out she even has a condition, than tell anyone about her epilepsy. During our first week here, we were getting acquainted in her room and doing some studying when she suddenly stopped moving. A few seconds later, she fell over and started convulsing. Panicking, I ran across the campus to get Nurse, nearly collapsing in his office. After that, which has the undesirable result of broadcasting her condition to half the girls in the dorm, she wouldn't speak to me for a week.

Looking back to Hisao, I wonder if that's what it will take for him to tell me what mysterious condition brought him to Yamaku. Considering his condition, whatever it is, has no outward signs, I guess he feels like he can hide it better. If it's some kind of internal disease like epilepsy, then maybe I'll have to be there to see him collapse from some kind of catastrophic event to find out.

_I hope not._

Silence falls over the four of us as the pall of assumed disabilities hangs over us, choking the joviality of the last few minutes. You would think a school full of disabled kids could avoid this kind of situation, but people are people. Most people don't like revealing their flaws unless they have to, and, even though most of the students have flaws to share, some of which are far more obvious than others, they still feel the need to guard them. I know I do.

Locked uin uncomfortable silence, Hisao shifts on his feet uncomfortably, Amaya continues to avert her gaze, and Tadao seems to have run out of things to say. Smiling at Amaya, who's peeking out at me, expecting me to speak next, I find the responsibility of breaking the tension has fallen squarely on my shoulders. Laughing nervously, I blurt out a question, "weren't we about to get some takoyaki?"

Seizing the opportunity to change the subject, Hisao grins and nods. Pointing at Amaya and Tadao, he looks at me with raised eyebrows and hangs a wordless question in the air. Catching on quickly, I verbalize the query, "you two care to join us?"

Tadao nods, and Amaya joins him without even seeing his head moving. It's almost as though they're communicating telepathically; or they're just both feeling agreeable. Watching their eerie synchronicity, I'm sure Hisao thinks they've been dating for months – I think anyone would, really.

The four of us approach the takoyaki booth, and soon we're off walking around the festival grounds, junk food in hand. The two of them walking between Hisao and I, Amaya and Tadao help with pointing out the different booths to Hisao as we eat. His expressions are mostly serene, but sometimes full of wonderment. Mentioning that the booths are all well-stocked because of his help with getting the reports finished, he smiles proudly, but his reflective look makes me wonder if he really feels like he helped anything.

_Every little bit counts._

Otherwise, our discussion is mostly about schoolwork, since none of us wants to bring up anything serious. Hisao avoids talking about his past, and we don't press him. Every so often I catch him rubbing his sternum again, and I begin to wonder how he developed such an odd habit. Knowing I have some odd conversational habits, I don't feel inclined to ask about his, so I leave it unmentioned.

Smiling often and laughing at Amaya and Tadao's jovial banter, Hisao seems rather relaxed compared to our previous meetings. The faces he makes when I explain things is always attentive, never judging and there's an almost child-like wonderment in his curious gaze. Asking me questions about the school history, the foundation, and wondering at the extensive funding it must take to pay for the school's upkeep, I find his curiosity refreshing.

As we walk around together, I also wonder at how eased I feel. After the outburst in class, I know there are probably a lot of rumors running around the school, but I'm surprisingly comfortable. I should feel self-conscious and awkward having most of the students around in earshot, but it seems the exact opposite is true. Something in his eyes, and the way he carries himself thoughtfully makes me feel safe. Having not even mentioned the lunch-time outburst, I don't know what he thought of it exactly, and I don't want to get ahead of myself, but I think he might even be glad I yelled at him.

After checking through the booths, we decide to wander around the rest of the school grounds. Eventually finding our way out near the gate where Rin sits cross-legged on the ground, staring at the finished mural. Scanning across the artwork from afar, I notice Hisao's contented expression and wonder aloud, "have you seen anything like it?"

As we stop, Amaya and Tadao stare at each other, seemingly lost in their own little world. Leaning forward to look around the tittering couple, Hisao smiles. "No, not exactly. I ended up helping Rin carry some paints out here the other day, though," he explains.

"Oh so you've met our school's philosophizing artist, then?" I ask, rather rhetorically.

Looking back at Rin, sitting calmly and seemingly lost in thought, he replies, "I guess so. Though I'm not sure how much I actually know about her even after half an afternoon."

Having heard our conversation, and Hisao's pondering, Rin breaks her focused gaze and turns to say, "you can only know as much about someone else as you allow yourself to hear. I read that in a book, I think. Or maybe someone told me."

Smirking, I stifle a giggle and nod in agreement. Tilting my head toward the mural, I ask, "you finished it in time, then?"

Casting her wandering glance at me, Rin smiles. Then a confused expression crosses her face and she asks, "finished what?"

Shaking my head, and feeling like I'm shoveling against the tide, I point at the wall and prompt, "the mural?"

"Oh that, yeah," she affirms. Watching her stand, I marvel a bit at how she does so without having any arms to balance herself. When she's upright, she quickly stretches before continuing her thought, "I wasn't sure if you meant something else; you should be more specific." Taking a few steps back, she returns her gaze to the mural, commenting, "then again, everyone else has had the same question so I shouldn't be surprised."

Conversations with Rin always seem to go like this, but it's oddly enjoyable. Figuring out what she's trying to say can often take a little longer, but it makes you think. Sometimes there's wisdom or poignancy in her rambling, roundabout speeches. If nothing else, it leads you to choose your own words more carefully when she's around.

With Hisao falling in step beside me, Amaya and Tadao start walking ahead of us, commenting on the imagery in he mural. Seemingly lost in thought as he looks over the brightly colored, abstract depictions, Hisao starts mouthing a comment a few times, but holds back. Blushing innocently at the sight of a few images, naked human forms, he resists the temptation to make childish comments like Tadao and Amaya.

Not really understanding art myself, as I scan over the abstract mural, I decide that I like it, but I don't know why. Lacking the artistic vocabulary to describe it, I start to look at it like a mathematician. There are numerous radii crisscrossing the design, each one pulling a different vector in clusters that form disparate shapes. Tangents terminate where the different vector groups cluster, creating a complex pattern of images. Carefully chosen colors identify the different shapes, and the arrangement is visually pleasing as a result.

There's a simplicity to it, but it's also frustratingly complex, and that combination seems beautifully serene. What Rin might be trying to say with it eludes me, but, glancing back at her as I stop, a strange realization crosses my mind. Settling my gaze on the arm-less artist, who has returned to her seat on the ground, I look her over and think about who she is, then scan over the mural again. If I thought I knew what I was talking about, I'd tell her I thought it was her reflection – or something like that.

Walking up behind me, Hisao explains, "Emi told me she slept out here Friday night trying to finish." hearing him speak without seeing him makes me concentrate on the sound of his voice, and I notice it carries a deep baritone. No longer stuttering or sounding awkward, its clarity and depth make him sound serene; or maybe I just like the sound of it – who knows.

_I think I know._

Hearing Emi's name brought up pulls me out of my artistic musings, and I decide to ask a question, "I heard you were running with Emi. How's that going?" Responding with an uncomfortable smile, the source of which could be most anything, he looks away. For whatever reason, in the back of my mind there is a little green monster that wants to slap him – but I resist.

_Jealousy? Why do my thoughts automatically become dark like that?_

Finally he looks back at me and sighs, the baritone disappointingly missing as he replies, "I don't think I'm cut out for running anymore." He paws at his chest again; it seems like a nervous tick, almost. He only seems to do it when he's under stress.

"Did you used to run a lot?" I ask, not expecting the gravity of the question to hit him like a brick. Immediately clamming up, he looks depressed for a second, and I hate to see that frown creeping back onto his pallid countenance.

Narrowing his eyes, he stares ahead blankly as we start to walk; apparently thinking of a response. Wanting to offer some support with a hand on his shoulder or something equally reassuring, I still feel like I would be overstepping my bounds. After a few agonizing seconds, he centers his gaze on me and smiles, "I used to play soccer, but I kinda can't anymore."

His elusiveness is frustrating, but perfectly understandable. He shouldn't be forced to talk about is any more than Amaya should be forced to describe her epilepsy. The far-away look in his eyes seems to indicate there's more, but he doesn't seem ready to say whatever thing is bothering him – not yet. The look in his eyes says he wants to tell someone eventually, and that's fine for now, I guess.

_I wish he'd just be out with it, though._

Whatever did happen, it apparently hasn't settled well, and I don't want to make it any worse. Finally reaching a hand up, I bump his shoulder lightly with my fist. "Hey, don't worry about it," I say, smiling serenely, "everyone has their secrets." Smiling, he seems relieved by my candor. Dropping his hand back down into his pocket, he looks forward and continues walking; he can remain a mystery for a while longer, I don't mind.

Deciding to make the most of what he did tell me, I ask, "so, soccer, huh? Were you any good~?" I try to imitate Amaya's lilt, but it just makes my voice crack.

Raising an eyebrow, he smirks at me playfully before answering, "well, since you asked so nicely, yeah. I was a God on the field." His confident baritone is back, and I'm glad. "Women used to fall over at the sight of me!" he exclaims, then leans toward me and whispers, "stricken with fever."

Catching onto his exaggeration, I decide to fake a swoon, closing my eyes and dramatically holding one hand to my forehead, the other over my heart and leaning back and sighing, "oh, Mister Nakai, you do have that effect on a lady~!" Leaning back further, I close my eyes dramatically. "I may swoon!" I say, but suddenly I feel cold.

Time seems to slow as the world turns over before my eyes, or it seems to, and I feel myself lurching forward; the fake swoon becomes a real one. Hearing Hisao start to laugh, I loll on my feet for a moment. The familiar numb, buzzing sensation runs down my spine and I feel light. My head rolls downward and I lose all sense of direction as the dizzy spell pulls me off my feet. His laughter is caught by a sudden gasp and a yell, "Aiko?"

_Not in the face!_

Instantly, I feel a hand on my shoulder and I'm pressed against something warm. My senses addled, I can't tell if it's the sun-baked sidewalk or a wall, but I think I'm still standing. Burying my head down as the waves of nausea wash over me, I blink reflexively as the world rotates out of control. For a second, I try to look up, but my vision blurs and my head pounds. Closing my eyes, I try to suppress a barely-audible whimper; I don't want Hisao to see this – not yet.

Coming from somewhere above me, I hear his worried voice again, "Aiko?" A moment later, I hear footsteps coming from nearby, which I assume belong to Amaya and Tadao.

"Oh, nice and smooth, Aiko" I hear her balking, "go right for the fake dizzy spell bit." Amaya's playful tone makes me smile a bit, but I'm definitely not faking. The world is off its axis, and if not for this warm, soft wall, I would be flat on the ground by now. Focusing on the darkness behind my eyelids, I fight the spinning sensation, but the banal feeling remains.

"I don't think she's faking, Ams," I hear Tadao's say, a concerned edge to his usual monotone. Opening my eyes again, hoping the whirling has subsided, I feel my whole body lurch sideways; though that might only be in my head. My eyes fall shut again and I concentrate on controlling the building nausea.

_Keep the takoyaki in!_

Hisao's voice comes again from above me, "is she alright?" and I suddenly realize the identity of this warm, soft, solid wall. Gasping, I try looking up, but the motion makes me turn back down and bury myself against him harder. Noticing the sound of it now, I can hear his heartbeat, and it's strangely comforting; though it sounds a little fast – and erratic.

My own heart flutters a bit as I concentrate on the sound, and I wonder if he's just excited by my leaning against him, or if it's terror making his heart beat so fast – both, probably. Grinning at the thought, despite the embarrassment, I hope nobody can see me smiling about such lascivious thinking – not that they'd know.

Realizing I'm now blushing, I'm glad my face seems to be buried in his chest. Not being able to see his face, I hope he's blushing too; it's only fair. Feeling his warmth starting to spread across me, or maybe I'm just getting warmer, I start to feel a little better. Imagining Shizune's reaction should she happen by, I grin at the angry stink-eye she'd be leveling at me – too bad for her, I'm enjoying this.

Time starts returning to normal, and I begin regaining my senses. Nearby hushed voices, and the pleasant odor of fried food fills my nose. There's a soapy smell, too, that's reminiscent of laundry detergent, but I think that's coming from Hisao. Smiling weakly, I look up at him, but his worried expression makes me frown.

_Dammit._

Turning a pleading glance toward Amaya, he looks completely lost. Responding to his unasked question, she steps over and explains, "she gets dizzy spells sometimes. Ear thing. Walking around in this heat probably didn't help."

Feeling her arm wrap under mine, I weakly try to squeak a protest, to have my pride, but Amaya is in mother mode. Wanting to say I'm fine, that I'll be alright without help, and that she doesn't have to step in now that I have this nice warm wall to lean on, I try to speak, but the words get caught in my throat. Inside, I know I'm not really fine yet; the world has calmed, but it's still spinning and my stomach feels like it wants to leap out through my throat.

"Help her down," she says, and I don't have the physical or cognitive ability to argue. A moment later, Hisao's heat fades as I'm lowered to sit on the sidewalk, feeling like a wet rag being left in the sun.

_This is mortifying._

Most of the time my dizzy spells are just quick little overbalancing escapades; but every so often the conditions are just right and I flop over like a rag doll. Nausea often accompanies the really bad spells, and I remember my parents used to worry terribly that I'd fall down the stairs or from some other precarious place. "Vertigo without the heights," my doctor said once. I remember not understanding and just giggling – I was only seven. Right about now, I think I'd slap him or kick him – probably both.

"Usually they're over pretty quick, but sometimes they linger," I hear Amaya say.

Finally gathering the strength to speak, if not to look at her, I balk, "I'm fine."

Amaya pets my shoulder as I sit on the curb for a few minutes until I can collect myself. Hisao's feet, in those nice new shoes, shuffle uncomfortably for a few moments before he kneels down. Trying to smile at him, I instead double over quickly, holding my stomach and trying not to wretch. Hoping I don't mess up his new shoes, or my yukata, I focus on calming my churning gut.

Chancing a glance to read his face, the concerned, pale expression he wears makes me glad, that he's so obviously concerned, but I really don't want to seem like some storybook damsel in a dress. With that thought in mind, I will away the last of the nausea and force a smile, remarking, "you really do make ladies swoon."

Seeing him start to laugh makes me glad, and I feel relieved when the worried expression is replaced by a mirthful grin. Amaya adds her booming laugh, and I even hear Tadao offering some soft chuckles; which is the most I ever hear when he laughs. Still feeling a little queasy, I don't join in the laughter, but I'm smiling as I take some deep breaths

Stomach settled, and feeling like the crisis has been averted, retaining the takoyaki, Amaya helps me back to my feet. "Stop making her swoon," she chides, bumping her fist on Hisao's shoulder and sticking her tongue out at him. Nodding at Hisao, she wanders back over to Tadao, but I'm not focused on them at all.

Instead I'm looking at Hisao with an apologetic half-smile. There's still a little worry etched into his eyes, but he doesn't look unhappy. "Shall we continue the tour?" he asks, holding out a hand toward where Amaya and Tadao are walking away, smiling kindly. I grin, not being able to resist that smile.

_I don't think I want to resist it._

Now leading a half-step ahead of me, he follows the tittering couple, and I stay carefully close. Sometimes, after a bad spell, there are aftershocks that can be almost as bad as the first one, but I don't tell him that. If I flop over again, I'm not worried about him reacting fast enough, but I don't want him to be overly concerned. Perhaps I'm a little like Amaya in that regard, or maybe I'm just concerned with first impressions.

My mind wanders as we walk and talk quietly. He explains how he was never really great at soccer, but liked to play socially. I tell him about how I never got into sports because of my balance problems, and he doesn't pry. Looking around as we talk, the sky begins to dim, and the stars start to show through the veil of the sky. Soon the sun is dipping low on the horizon, and the mood in the air begins to change.

During the day the festival is playful and childish; there are random giggling voices floating all around as people visit the different games and try the different foods. As the light drifts away, the atmosphere changes to something between somber and romantic.

It's a bit cliché, but the paper lanterns hanging in the trees and the lights from the festive booths cast a soft glow over everything, turning the whole festival ground into something surreal. Like an impressionist painting, the bright colors flow over the darkened background, and, for a while, it feels like I've stepped into another reality.

Nightfall brings a hush over the festival ground as people pick out spots in the fields, or up on the roof of the school, to sit and wait for the fireworks display. Amaya and Tadao sit down in the middle of the grassy field, and I see her hugging closely to Tadao, burying her eyes in his side. She's still worried about the bright flashes triggering an attack, but she's using that fear to push closer to Tadao. I smile and nod at them, feeling pride in my work – though I really didn't do much.

_Okay, I did trick them into this, but they needed to be tricked._

Hisao sits down next to a tree and leans against it, beckoning me to join him with a pat on the grass to his left. I comply without hardly a thought, and sit right next to him, leaning forward with my arms wrapped around my knees, looking up at the sky expectantly. He leans back against the tree and turns his gaze skyward, waiting.

As the first flickers of light begin to burst in the sky, I carefully plug my right ear with a finger, listening to the blood rush in my head as the thundering pops reverberate through my body. Hisao leans forward seeing me with my finger stuck in my ear and raises an eyebrow quizzically. Turning, I smile at him wistfully.

"Does the sound bother you?" he asks, looking back up at the sky. A bright flash of blue flickers across his face and I watch the cascade of shimmering stars reflecting in his eyes.

_Stop staring!_

Sighing, I grin, saying, "no, I just like the vibrations better." Catching that happy smile on his face, I wistfully add, "I used to sit with my dad and we'd both block our ears during the fireworks. He said it was really the reverberations you remember. Like the drumbeat to a good song."

Leaning back against the tree, he lifts his own fingers up to block both ears. "Like this?" he asks, looking silly.

Leaning back, I nudge his arm. With both of us blocking our ears, we need to be closer to continue the conversation. "Yeah," I say loudly.

"Y'know fireworks are more than just vibrations," he's almost yelling to reach over the din of explosions – and through my sound-blocking finger. His eyes remain skyward as I turn myself slightly and lean back, resting against his chest and staring skyward. He continues explaining, "the colors are different because the various charges are filled with both black powder and some other granulated metal that burns with a specific color."

_That's... nice._

As I lean against him under the tree, I'm lost in the warmth again, and I lose track of what he's talking about. I think he's still explaining how fireworks get their bright colors, but I'm not certain. It doesn't matter. I feel the vibrations from his talking more than I hear his words. My conscious mind drifts away from his voice such that it becomes a senseless whisper interspersed with colorful explosions that rattle the ground and remind me of my childhood.

Feeling as though I should remember what this is like, I concentrate my senses on the surroundings. Sitting in the cool grass, the smell of fried foods and smoke hanging in the air, the din happy laughter and exclamations rising from the crowd behind us, and his dulcet baritone whispering sweet unknowns, it's a warm, contented sensation. I want to remember the warmth and the safety I feel sitting here, feeling like it's the most right place to be in the world.

As the final flourish of bright flashes explode above us, I turn to look at his face and see a beaming smile that makes me consider doing something drastic. He looks down at me then, and I can almost hear his thoughts in accordance with my own. I feel safe and warm, and my heart flutters as I recognize his own swift heartbeats echoing against my shoulder. I shift, we pause, and the last few blasts, shimmering as they fall, shake through us, showering us in an ethereal blue glow. The echo resonates between us, caught in the space between, and our eyes lock.

Time stands still. The sudden absence of sound creates a vortex of perception, and all I see are those peaceful brown eyes staring back at me, dreamily beckoning. My remaining consciousness screams to push forward, to close the distance and meet with those eyes, his lips; but I hear a sound then, and glance away. The spell is broken by a random whistle somewhere in the distance, directed elsewhere, piercing my impassioned mind, and the vortex begins to recede. Letting out a stifled giggle, I slowly lurch away, retreating from that warm sensation.

_What just happened?_

Barely hearing the din of cheers rise up around us, clouded thoughts race through my head and I'm awash with embarrassment. Wrapping my hands around my knees again, I look down, averting my eyes. Feeling my face flushed with heat, my breathing is quickened and coming in short gasps as I try to regain control.

The memory is already hazy, but I'm certain that actually just happened – or almost happened. Flinching at the touch, I feel a hand on my shoulder; a strong hand that feels alien, though reassuring. In its grasp, I recall the beating of his heart, of my heart, and I remember his eyes. The memory is lost almost as quickly as it came, the hand awkwardly retracted.

Amaya's sleepy voice breaks the silence, coming from somewhere far away, "well, that was fun~!"

Feeling cold air rush over me, there's a late-spring breeze carrying the scent of sulfur, though it's not entirely unpleasant. Chilling at first, it reminds me where I am. The cool grass, the night air, the star-filled sky and the distant, cheerful laughter fill my senses. My breathing slows to normal and my heart stops racing – I regain control.

Needing to say something, offer an explanation or a contrivance, my mind swirls with possible answers. The truth is too embarrassing to utter, so I decide to lie. "Sorry," I say, keeping my head buried against my knees, "another dizzy spell."

Coming from behind, Hisao's slightly stilted, concerned voice asks, "are you alright?"

Smiling despite his inability to see it, I let out a swift breath and assure him, "I'll be fine."

My thoughts are jumbled, but the embarrassing feeling has passed - mostly. My face cools, realizing he believes my little lie for now, and I almost believe it myself. I have heard of cosmic tumblers clicking into place, but never imagined it could feel so real. Nearly being swept up in the moment, nothing had happened, so everything could go back to normal – right?

_Why do I feel so disappointed?_

"What'd you do to her this time?" I hear Amaya ask. Finally looking up, still facing away from Hisao, I see Amaya walking back toward us with Tadao in tow. Looking over my shoulder at Hisao, her tone is slightly angry, but her expression is a crooked smirk.

Hisao stutters a response, "n-nothing. We were-"

Interjecting, I finish his thought, "enjoying the fireworks." Turning to me, Amaya raising an eyebrow. Ignoring her look of disbelief, I continue explaining, "I had a dizzy spell looking at the sky is all." I hate lying to her and Tadao -and Hisao- but I barely know what really happened, and I'd be too embarrassed to admit to what I think happened – or what almost happened.

_It didn't happen, right? _

The certainty I had seems to be lost and I know I'm making a confused face. If Amaya and Tadao can see it, I'm glad they aren't reacting.

"The Swooner strikes again," Tadao says, nodding at Hisao. If he were close enough, I think I would actually kick him this time – perceptions be damned.

Hearing Hisao standing up behind me, I finally turn to look at him. Standing fully, though slouching, he looks a little bewildered. I think he might even be having the same battle in his mind over what happened - or didn't happen. Turning away, trying to hide my own bewildered expression, I just want this to be over. Seeing Amaya extending a hand, I accept it, and decide to play out the dizzy bit, wobbling as I stand.

She reaches to catch me, but I steady myself and smile. "I'll be alright," I say, "just a bit of reverse vertigo." I'm not really sure if that's a thing, but it sounds technical enough and Amaya doesn't argue. I'll have to remember that if I'm asked about this later.

_Lying is hard work. _

"Well, if you say so," she says, offering a wink neither of the boys can see.

_What does that wink mean?_

Stepping around me, she grabs Tadao's hand, and they pass by Hisao after a few strides. Watching them walk away, I realize I'll have to wait to find out what she meant – nothing good, probably. Washing the confusion off my face with a wave of my hand, I flip my hair, and turn, grinning at Hisao. He replies with a smile of his own and I start walking, him falling in step beside me as I pass.

The memory of our earlier stuttering contest plays out in my head as we walk back toward the dorms in silence. I feel much less awkward than I should, really. We almost kissed. That's what happened. We only met three days ago, and we've barely talked in that time, but somehow, out under the stars, we got wrapped up in the moment.

Uncertain whether he feels the same, I think I can admit to myself that I was attracted to him almost immediately – especially after we spent some time alone together. I can also admit that I wanted it to happen -the kiss, I mean- and I still feel disappointed. However, I also know that it's way too soon. Logically, at least, and probably emotionally.

Part of me wants to punch my logical self until it bleeds, but it's ducking the blows. There are other reasons why I shouldn't be getting involved with boys; school, family obligations, total embarrassment, and the potential for rejection – those last two have been keeping me in check so far. The other, deeper reason, I try not to think about. Whenever it comes up, I find myself revisiting that horrible dream. Pushing the thoughts aside, I concentrate on walking; walking with Hisao.

_That sounds like the title to a movie._

When we reach the crossroads, which sounds much more dramatic than it is, between the boys and girls dorms, we stop. Like earlier, there are about two meters of air between us, but no Shizune or Misha. Amaya and Tadao are somewhere behind me, but I don't feel threatened by them – merely annoyed. The lamps overhead cast a dim glow, illuminating Hisao face.

"I'm glad you yelled at me," he says, a wistful smile spreading on his lips.

"Well, you had fun, right~?" I ask, attempting Amaya's lilt again, I but it sounds forced. Leaning forward, grinning and putting my hands on my hips in exaggerated fashion, I add, "see, festivals are awesome~!"

"Oh, you seem proud of yourself," he says, offering a raised eyebrow. "Mission accomplished and all," he remarks sardonically.

Before I can reply, Tadao passes by me, punching my shoulder on the way, and I swat at his arm in response. "See ya tomorrow, Aiko," he says, then, turning at Hisao, "you too, maybe, Swooner."

Hisao nods, but then shakes his head a bit, apparently noticing the nickname for the first time. Turning to watch Tadao run off, he protests, "I didn't do anything!"

Tadao's laughter, like that of a madman, echoes between the buildings as he jogs out from under the lamplight and reappears at the door to the boy's dorm. He waves at us and calls loudly, dramatically reciting a poem he apparently thought up as we wandered around today.

_Beware the Swooner, stalking the night. _

_Hunting in darkness, his gaze burning bright. _

_Vested in argyle, the Swooner does walk._

_Women thus fall aghast, outlined in chalk. _

_The Swooner cares not, whether they rise._

_Forever he searches, for more innocent sighs._

His dark poem finished, he leaps in through the door, leaving us to giggle at his composition. Hisao is shaking his head and stifling his laughter as he turns back to me asking, "is he always like that?"

"He's usually worse," I admit.

"That's _my_ man you're berating, Aiko!" Amaya scolds from far over my shoulder. Turning, I seeing her leaning forward with one hand on her hip and the other waving a finger in front of her. The animated position makes me think she watches too much television. Rolling my eyes, I shoot her a glare; to which she responds with a messy raspberry and turns to run for the girls dorm.

About half way there, she stops and spins to say one last thing, "either slap the Swooner or kiss him, but do it fast. We do have school tomorrow~!" Turning away, she continues running. My eyes widen as I remember her wink.

_Did she see what almost happened? _

Groaning at the thought, I trying to hide it in a giggle; though I can't stop my hands from hands balling into fists. Shaking my head and steadying myself, I look back at Hisao. His eyes are closed and he's chuckling quietly. "She's quite a character," he comments.

"She's a pain in my ass," I gripe, blowing a stray hair out of my face and planting a hand on my hip in frustration.

Pointing a thumb at the building behind him, he frowns and looks perturbed. "I better go make sure Kenji didn't set the place on fire or something," he says, and I'm not sure if he's being sarcastic. The name makes me recoil a little, a bewildered expression crossing my face; he grins at my reaction.

_Does he mean Kenji Setou?_

He explains, "he's my hall-mate. Short, skinny, and kinda wily," he describes. "I'm pretty sure he's legally blind, too. Big coke-bottle glasses," he says, holding his thumb and pointer fingers together over his eyes to imitate a pair of glasses – but I didn't need the visual aid.

Setou has a reputation for being odd, paranoid and belligerent. I recall his incensed march into the Student Council room when he blindly berated Shizune's merit badge idea. A crowd had followed him in purely out of curiosity to see a blind -mostly blind- man screaming obscenities at a deaf-mute girl – it was surreal; not to mention pointless. Misha was so shocked, she didn't even translate.

No wonder Hisao was thinking of staying away from the festival; Setou probably put the idea in his head. I can't imagine what it must be like to share a wall with him – or a bathroom, for that matter. I shudder at the thought.

"You poor thing," I say simply.

He closes his eyes, nodding and smirking. "I guess that means he's not flying as far under the radar as he thinks."

I hold up a hand to shush him, and lean forward conspiratorially, whispering, "I heard from someone he keeps dynamite in his room, so don't make him mad whatever you do." It's probably not true -I hope it's not true- but the best rumors are often the most outlandish.

_I really hope it's not true._

He pales a little, hearing the ridiculous claim, and I wonder if he thinks it could be true – or if he knows it's true.

_Could Kenji Setou really be amassing explosives in his room for some fanatical reason?_

After a few uncomfortable seconds he starts backing away slowly. "Good advice," he says, offering a wave, "I'll see you around, right?"

Being uncertain how much sarcasm he's laying on, I'm a little late to respond. "Count on it," I say, but it's a little to quiet for him to hear. Instead of repeating it, I just nod and wave back. Feeling like lingering to watch him walk into the dorm, I realize someone might be watching, like Amaya, for instance, so I turn on my heel and start walking back to the girls' dorm. Not seeing Amaya standing in the doorway to sneak a look at our parting, I turn and glance over my shoulder just in time to see Hisao step through the door.

As soon as I walk near the common room, I feel her eyes on me. Amaya steps through the door gulping down a bottle of water and makes a noise at me so I'll stop walking. As much as I feel like I should talk about it, I want to sleep on the information. Holding up my hand as she bounds over, I hush her questions before they start. "It's late, we're both tired," I explain, "and we can talk about all this tomorrow."

My statement has the benefit of being right on all three points, and Amaya nods in response. Ever curious, she leans in and asks, "can you at least tell me if you kissed him?"

Rolling my eyes reflexively, I stare at her blankly and say flatly, "you first."

Paling, she turns away to hide a blush. "You're right, we can wait until tomorrow," she says, ending with a nervous giggle.

She probably wants to process the day as much as I do, so the discussion ends there. She and Tadao were practically -and literally- joined at the hip by the time I saw them and I wonder how their morning went – out of my sight. It can wait until morning, but I'll definitely be asking her about it, and I'll be expecting details.

Heading to our rooms quietly, we agree to withhold our burning questions until tomorrow. Flopping onto my bed the instant I've kicked off my shoes and changed into my nightshirt I don't even bother taking the braid or the ribbon out of my hair. After almost landing on my laptop, I shove it off to the side and lower it down to the floor before drawing the covers up over me and settling into my pillow.

The world melts away into serene darkness as I close my eyes and sink into my blankets. Wistful memories of walking with Hisao dance through my imagination, and a contented smile spreads on my lips as a result. The weight of the looming festival finally lifts away and I relax, drifting into sweet dreams about today's near-miss.

_Or near-hit, rather. Right?_


	6. Chapter 6 Reciprocity

_**Act 2 – Allegro**_

**Chapter 6 – Reciprocity**

Last night felt like a dream, but, as I wake to the sound of my alarm radio playing another j-pop cacophony, I realize it did actually happen. Hisao and I spent the whole afternoon together wandering the festival grounds, laughing, talking and walking side-by-side. We shared some takoyaki and conversation with my friends, I fell over on him, and we nearly kissed during the fireworks. As embarrassing as that all seemed, I'm actually glad it all happened – except maybe one minor detail.

_Amaya's wink. What did she see?_

Trying to push that inevitable conversation out of mind, I sit up swiftly. Glancing at my clock-radio, I notice it's just a little past six, and realize I somehow managed to sleep through the night. Swinging my legs off the bed, I slap the noise into oblivion, marveling at how effective that jarring music is at waking me no matter how much sleep I get. Keeping it set to the most annoying local station possible because the beeping never manages to wake me, I challenge anyone to sleep through a bad pop song.

As much as I enjoyed myself yesterday, awkward moments not-withstanding, when I consider the incoming barrage of questions, I wonder if it was worth the effort. Inside, I feel like a weight has been lifted, and sleeping through the night probably helps, but it seems the weight I cast off has simply been replaced. There are new worries to haunt me, though they're much more pleasant superficially.

Standing, I walk over to the mirror and gasp a bit seeing the braid still in my hair. The green ribbons are crushed and bent, and the braid is hanging apart. Quickly untying it, I brush the gathered strands back into position. Satisfied, and feeling energized, I bounce on my toes for a few seconds before plopping down into my desk chair, contemplating some way to waste time.

It's just after six, so I have a couple hours before classes. I look down at my laptop -leaning against my desk where it haphazardly landed- but it isn't beckoning my attention. The homework assignments were finished before we left Saturday, and I don't feel I need the refresher for today's tests. Looking over at my closet, I recall a thought I had when out shopping and a plan formulates.

With a heavy yawn and a much-needed stretch, I start digging around for my swimwear. Tossing a bathrobe over the school-issued one-piece swimsuit, I sink my feet into my sandals and head out the door with an extra towel for my hair. As I pass by the common room, I hear the familiar springing sound from Emi's running spikes, but I don't say anything as she charges by looking as though she's running late. She offers me a quick wave and a smile, which I return in kind, but she looks a little too hurried to have time to talk.

_Is she late for her run, I wonder? Will Hisao be there? Should I forgo my swim plans and follow her to-_

__

_To what? Spy on them? In a swimsuit and bathrobe? Stalk-er!_

The morning air is brisk, and the mist hanging in the air makes the school grounds feel cold and a little bit menacing. It's not oppressive, but it's enough to limit my vision. Trying not to let my imagination run wild, I find there's a little corner of my mind expecting to hear radio static, and then see some horrific creature leaping out at me from the folds of mist, screeching with wild abandon. Late-night adventures in _Silent Hill_ has ruined my enjoyment of misty mornings.

_I definitely play too many video games late at night._

Shaking my head, I take a deep breath and start heading for the auxiliary building. The Nurse holds court there, but my destination skirts that particular part of the building. As I approach the breezeway that leads into the locker room, I start singing a favorite tune. This little open-air hallway catches acoustics wonderfully, and my solitary voice sounds like a chorus belting out the appropriately creepy _Lost Carol_ from _Silent Hill 3_. Of course, if I thought anyone were in earshot, I'd stop immediately. This is for my ear only.

_Is it bad the song I chose to sing is from a video game? Nah._

Since I don't need to use one, I walk right through the locker room and into the pool area. It's an old-looking part of the facility, but it's actually the newest section of Yamaku. The walls are thick, white-painted brick with an orange band at the bottom ending around waist level. All around the outer walls are decorative pillars that end in high arches and windows. The floor is polished ceramic tile in multiple earth-tones arranged in dazzling patterns. The vaulted ceiling is the only part that really looks modern; It's almost entirely made of glass, like a giant greenhouse, with architectural supports and braces hanging exposed.

The room looks like a giant bath-house. Around the edges there are benches, privacy walls, and on one end there is a large set of bleachers angled such that crowds could come and watch the swim club doing high dives. My footsteps gets caught in the giant empty space, vanishing before they can be heard; except for the tinny echo from above where sounds racket between the steel beams. Giant florescent lamps hang from the ceiling, but the morning light coming in through the giant windows and skylights is more than enough – especially considering there are lights in the pool itself. A modern building with modern conveniences that reeks of old money – Yamaku Academy is well-funded.

Picking a bench near the exit, I remove my bathrobe and lay it across the bench with the towel on top, then kick my sandals underneath. As I'm doing so, I hear footsteps and turn to see the night-watch woman giving me a nod. We talked once last year, and I found out her name. It was something foreign. For whatever reason, I remember her saying she moved to Japan with her husband and decided to stay when they got divorced.

_Her name, though? Totally blank._

Tall, blonde, and kind of broad, I think she said she was of Icelandic descent. I feel safe knowing she's there -she's a trained lifeguard and EMT- but a little embarrassed. I don't like people watching me swim.

Having considered it when I first came to Yamaku, I never joined the swim club. To me, this is a hobby, and a way to keep fit without the risk of falling over. Besides, I sometimes get vertigo on the ground; I can't even imagine being up on that diving board. Having it be a regimented activity might also kill the enjoyment I get from coming to the pool whenever the mood suits me, and, beside that, I'm way to self-conscious to perform for a crowd.

Sitting down near the pool, I start doing some stretches; mostly to work any kinks out from sleeping. My mind wanders while I do so, and I wonder if Hisao might join me for morning swims if I asked. There must be a reason he started running with Emi, but maybe he would enjoy my company more. Then again, the thought of being alone with him in a bathing suit causes me to blush and he isn't even here. Having come to terms with the immediate attraction I felt toward him, I'm still not sure what to do with the feelings, but having talked with him a lot yesterday, I find him increasingly intriguing.

When he wasn't being awkward and started opening up, talking to him was easy; though he definitely wasn't an open book. Anytime the subject came close to his medical issues or specifics about the recent past, he clammed up, but I don't think that's unusual. Whatever happened, it was recent and he did say he's still adjusting; though not in so many words. Amaya and Tadao seemed to like him, even if they did spend most of the time poking fun. Hisao took it in stride, even accepting the new nickname.

_"__The Swooner." I'll need to ask Tadao for a written copy of that poem._

Satisfied that I've limbered up enough, I find my way over to a ladder and step over. The pool is heated, so I'm not worried about it being cold, but it still feels chilly as I slip down into the buoyant water and kick away from the side. Leveling into a backstroke, I let my body get used to the temperature, trying to keep my eyes closed, and my thoughts clear.

A whole lot of good that does, though. Remembering Amaya's wink, I start dreading our upcoming conversation. As much as I want to ask her everything there is to know about what happened with Tadao, specifically what happened when I wasn't looking, the reciprocal part of that conversation fills me with apprehension.

_What am I going to tell her, anyway?_

Nothing really happened as far as I can tell. Well, something sort of did, but really didn't. Hisao and I never actually made contact, so, technically, we didn't kiss. However, we were interrupted, so it probably would have continued – I think. It's confusing. Whatever may or may not have happened, there were implications, and there will be consequences; the extent of which depend on what Amaya saw.

_Should I have just gone for it?_

That thought makes me roll over and dive down into the water; which has the desired effect of making me focus on keeping my breath as I swim down to touch the bottom of the pool. When I come back up near the edge of the pool, I shake my head, flinging water around, and brush my nose with my hand to push the water away. The chlorine burns a little, but the subtle sting manages to push the jumbled thoughts away, so I'm glad. With my thoughts cleared, I arrest control of my breathing and launch myself into a breast stroke.

_Breathe, stroke. Breathe, stroke. Breathe, stroke._

Recalling Dad's lessons, I propel myself all the way to the far wall and spin around, kicking off and swimming back the other way. When I reach that end, I spin and kick again, letting the muscle memory take over.

_Breathe, stroke. Breathe, stroke. Breathe, stroke._

On the fourth lap, I start feeling the heaviness in my legs and I slow my pace to compensate. My lungs burn and my heart races, but I feel genuinely relaxed. Perhaps I'm a little out of shape, but I haven't done this in weeks, so I'm hardly surprised to be lagging a little.

_Breathe, stroke. Breathe, stroke. Breathe, stroke._

Swimming always made me feel better, even when I was little. Now it's serving a double-purpose, and I grin into the waves as I pound through another four laps before reaching up to catch myself on the wall. Floating there, I start idly treading water for a few seconds to catch my breath. As I do, I hear a voice from behind me that I don't recognize.

"Nice form, Miss Kurai," says the voice. Spinning around, I see it's the night-watch woman. As I realize she remembered my name from that one past conversation, I feel a rush of embarrassment at not remembering hers. Evidently that's written on my face as she adds, "Joyce Chambers." Her accent is a little thick, but she speaks Japanese surprisingly well.

_How can I have forgotten such an odd name?_

"Sorry," I try to bow in apology, but it probably looks like a nod with me still being in the water. "Thanks," I say, remembering her comment.

"How come you're not on the swim team?" she asks. Looking away as a maudlin frown crosses my face, I'm unwilling to comment. Continuing her train of thought, she comments, "you're pretty good at it; you don't even look tired."

_She's lying. I'm breathing like an asthmatic, elderly dog. And why is this coming up now?_

I've been swimming here for almost three years and this woman has probably seen me down here a hundred times. Perhaps I'm curious about her sudden interest, but I also want this conversation to be over quickly. "It's... complicated," I answer, trying not to sound defensive.

She nods, not looking offended. "Well, it's something to consider. You have a knack for it," she explains, smiling and offering a thumbs-up that makes me grin a bit, but I feel more bewildered than happy.

Swimming over to the nearby ladder, I climb up and head for the bench with my robe and towel. Wandering over over with an apologetic look, she holds out her hands, gesturing apologetically. As she approaches, I sit on the bench and start toweling my hair.

"I don't mean to pry..." she starts, but trails off and frowns.

_Then don't._

Trying to be polite, I decide not to say that, and instead wait for her to continue; she doesn't need to know why I choose to swim alone. "It just seemed like something you were good at," she says with an encouraging smile on her face, "so I thought I'd point it out."

Offering her a shrugging smile, I don't reply. It seems like she has more to add, but I'm almost to the point of telling her off and leaving. Seeing her cross her arms and put on a concerned look, I decide not to be so petulant. "You looked so far-away when you walked in," she says, casting a glance at the door, "it looked like something was really bothering you."

_Did I look that bad?_

"I-..." I start, then stop. Heaving a sigh, I feel frustrated by the question. Whatever she gleaned from my expression, I feel a little uneasy, but her concern seems genuine. There are a lot of things on my mind, I suppose, and it probably shows on my face more than I realize. Still, I don't want to open up to this perfect stranger; as much as her smile may be inviting. She took the time to ask, so I feel like I should provide some kind of explanation; however vague.

"Lot on my mind, I guess," I finally reply, hoping she doesn't press any further.

Observing my face for a few seconds, which I try to keep locked in a disarming smile, she eventually nods and shrugs. "Well, don't be a stranger if you wanna talk about it," she remarks, smiling cheerily.

"I'll be fine," I say, "just post-festival woes." It isn't a lie if it's actually true.

"Tell me about it!" she waves her hand at me sardonically and laughs, "sad to see it go, but so glad it's over right?" I offer a nod which seems to satisfy her.

Watching her wander away back back to the side of the room, I realize she's just trying to be supportive, and her smile really is disarming. As I recall, the last time she talked to me, I was in a foul mood, much more foul than today, and came down here to clear my head. Maybe I had a similar expression on my face. Whatever the case, I think I might take her up on that offer if something is really bothering me; she managed to calm me down even though her mere presence is what made me nervous – that takes talent.

Quickly slipping into my sandals, I throw my bathrobe on, wrap the towel around my hair and head for the door. I feel bad for reacting so poorly to the complimentary gesture, and the concern, but it roused a particularly sore memory. Walking briskly, I make my way back to the dorm and flop down on my bed, digging into my nightstand for a picture frame I keep hidden.

It's an image of my dad and I at the beach when I was ten, building a sandcastle; I dig it out when I feel homesick. Lying on my bed, I run a finger over the picture and recall the vivid memory of adding layer upon layer to that teetering monstrosity until the tide rushed in and toppled Kurai Keep. Giggling, and playfully tossing sand around, we spent the day chasing crabs and tossing rocks with Midori, and he started teaching us the finer points of swimming; beyond simple paddling. Later that summer, his condition started catching up with him.

Shoving that memory aside, I toss the picture back in the drawer and slam it closed. Wanting to remember the happy day for the good memory it was rather than the turning point it became, I try to distance myself from the image, but it's already too late. Feeling the tears well up, I remember the church from my nightmares, and the faceless specters prodding me toward an image I've made every effort to forget – Dad's face, locked in perpetual silence.

The hazy wash of images replay in my head, but I can't make sense of them. Part of me doesn't want to make sense of them, and wishes I could just forget the whole ordeal. Maybe I'd be able to sleep a little better if I didn't have those memories to recall. Nobody should have to think about something so empty and terribly numbing, but it haunts me almost nightly. Trying not to think about it doesn't make it go away, nor does knowing what they mean – dreams aren't so easily dismissed.

_Except in stories, I guess._

A knock on my door could never have come at a more opportune time. Pushing the tears back, I wipe my eyes and take a deep breath. Keeping the crack out of my voice is the most difficult part as I call out, "who's there?"

"Swooner inspector," Amaya says playfully through the door.

_Oh good, just the thing to pick me up. Girl talk. Slash sarcasm._

Rolling my eyes, I sit up and readjust the towel wrapped around my hair. "Come in, it's not locked," I say.

Opening the door, she steps in with an analytical raise of her eyebrow and a hand on her chin. "Any stray Swooners in here I should know about?" she asks with a nasal voice, peering around the room like she might find someone stashed in a corner.

"You just like saying that word," I chide.

"It's kinda catchy, isn't it?" she says, dropping the facade. "Tadao was writing that during the fireworks," she explains.

"I'm not surprised," I remark with a shrug. Tadao always has a notepad hidden on him somewhere. "Close the door," I say.

She does so and turns, commenting, "smells like chlorine in here."

"I went for a swim," I explain, pulling the bathrobe aside to reveal the swimsuit for a moment. As she nods, I quietly thank the chlorine for giving my eyes an excuse to look red and irritated. The analytical eyes make their return and I suddenly feel self-conscious.

_Just get to the questions, already._

Sitting down next to me, she assumes a contemplative expression, considering her words. "So," she starts, raising an eyebrow, "what the heck happened during the fireworks? And don't try that 'dizzy spell' bull on me."

_Good, right to the point._

Still, I feel like I should have prepared an answer so I wouldn't have this dumb expression on my face. I'm only half-way shocked she saw through the deception, but that's splitting hairs. Her wink was a knowing one, apparently. "Well..." I trail off contemplatively, trying to stall.

Amaya knows me too well. Placing a hand on my shoulder, she leans in close to whisper, "I looked over my shoulder and saw you about to kiss that boy, so dish~!"

_Sometimes, I hate having friends._

Bowing my head, I let out a mournful groan. "Nothing happened," I claim, trying to sound less disappointed than I feel.

She swats the back of my head with her open hand and chides, "why the hell not?" Patting my head with the same hand, she chirps, "he's adorable."

Trying to explain, I profess, "I just met the guy."

Unfortunately, she doesn't buy my explanation. "So?" she prompts.

_Somehow I don't think I'll win this logic game._

Falling back on my bed, I let out an exasperated sigh. "He just got here like five days ago," I remark, attempting to reason things out.

She flops down next to me and smiles. "Yeah?" she asks, nudging my shoulder, "And?" Her nudging makes me giggle.

"There's a waiting period or something, isn't there?" I ask, not really knowing what I'm talking about.

"Wait for what? Some other girl to snatch him up?" she asks, and I feel like I've been physically slapped.

_Like Shizune? Dammit..._

Fighting that thought away, I instead say, "for him to adjust or whatever." I'm just making stuff up, I realize.

"You are helping him adjust," she remarks with a giggle. Patting my shoulder awkwardly, she adds, "probably in more ways than you know."

Letting the lascivious tone of her comment slide, I choose to focus on the less suggestive side of her comment. "That's what I tried to do," I say, recalling the reason I invited Hisao in the first place. Frowning, I shake my head and say, "I'm not sure I even accomplished that."

Ignoring my reminiscing about the formality of the encounter, she rolls onto her side and puts on a cat-like grin. "What about after I left you two between worlds," she asks dreamily.

_Between worlds? Oh, between the dorms. Ha!_

Sighing, I roll my eyes and reply, "we weren't even close enough to high-five."

Looking disappointed, she rolls back and folds her hands across her chest. Sounding deflated, she remarks, "I guess it might be a little too soon."

"_Too soon, Executus! Too soon!"_

Realizing her line of questioning is spent for now, I decide to turn the tables. "So, what about you and Tadao?" I inquire, giving her a playful nudge.

Sitting up, she stares at the ceiling and shrugs. "W-we uh..." she stutters, trying the same contemplative stall.

Pulling myself up next to her, I put my arm on her shoulder. "You were hanging onto him like a Siamese twin practically all day," I say, building momentum, "and he was shaking like a leaf when he talked to me earlier, so I wanna know what happened in between."

Assuming a serene expression I don't think I've ever seen her make, she looks over at me and smiles; her dimples deepening sweetly. "We talked about... stuff," she says, almost absently. Blinking, she turns a confused look at me and remarks, "I really wish you'd said something sooner."

"You're dodging the question," I say, tilting my head and raising an eyebrow.

Closing her eyes, the looks down at her feet and lets out a frustrated sigh. "We just... talked," she says, almost mournfully; as though she's disappointed.

Finding her answer less than satisfying, I notice the look on her face is similarly frustrated. The genuine tone of her voice makes me believe her, and I realize she looks a little depressed. Rubbing her shoulder sympathetically, I offer a genuine smile when she turns to look at me, her eyes seeming barely aware. "It's a start," I assure her.

"Yeah..." she replies, not convinced. Smiling at her dumbly, I really don't know what to tell her. Exposed to new feelings, Amaya tends to react quickly and loudly outwardly, but it takes her a while to process them internally. She expected things to move faster, I gathered, but I don't think anything is really wrong.

Patting her arm reassuringly, I'm not used to seeing Amaya's introspective side, but I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Spending most of the past year deliberating, asking me questions and wondering about the possibilities, her expectations were probably higher. Once she and Tadao figure out how to meet in the middle, so to speak, they'll be fine; I wasn't expecting an overnight success.

_Well, okay, I was. I'm not surprised or worried, though._

On our way to class, we pass Shizune and Misha in the halls, but I avert my eyes and Amaya doesn't seem to notice. Before ducking, I think I caught a cat-like grin on Shizune's face, but I might just be seeing things. Watching them disappear into room 3-3, I wonder what this whole competition is really about. She was making quite the show of keeping it a secret, but she could just have been toying with me for whatever reason. Maybe I'm just a ball of yarn for her to kick into the air for a while, but, if so, what does that make Hisao? The cat-nip?

_I've successfully referred to him as a type of drug; it's oddly fitting._

Tadao is already at his seat when we walk into class, but he's distracted by his notebook, like always. Looking him over as we head to our seats, some glaring personality differences occur to me. He and Amaya aren't exactly alike, of course; far from it, really.

While Amaya tends to speak ahead of her thoughts, Tadao lives inside his head and barely says a word that he hasn't thoroughly considered. Amaya tends to rush into things while Tadao steps lightly. When he does speak, Tadao is sardonically blunt and fond of enigmatic language, but Amaya is much more direct most of the time. Considering it more carefully, it seems their relative differences actually compliment each-other; which is an encouraging thought.

Rustling his hair as she sits down, he looks up from his writing and grins happily. They share a dreamy stare for a few seconds before he notices me, and they turn simultaneously. Amaya drops into her chair as Tadao levels a questioning look in my direction.

_Big brother is in the room._

"I had a friendly chat with your new friend last night," he starts. "Dude is definitely into you," he winks.

Amaya chimes in, "Swooner like~?"

"Indeed," he runs a hand through his hair, grinning.

_Great. Guy talk. About me. I'm thrilled._

Turning away, I shake my head and sigh, commenting, "I suppose he told you, then." My half-interested tone is pure bluster, though. If he has any careful observations to relate in regards to Hisao, I'm definitely interested in hearing them. It feels more likely he's just messing with me, though.

_To use Amaya's word; dish, dammit!_

"I gave him 'the warning'," he says, making air quotes I can just see in my peripheral vision.

_How predictable._

"How thoughtful," I say.

"Nah, the guy seems legit," he claims, leaning forward, trying to see the side of my face. Having the benefit of being able to see between the hairs, I can count on them to hide my eyes. "Dude was walkin' on air practically - or maybe he just had to pee..."

_I needed that image; thanks Tadao._

Amaya slaps her desk and cheerfully adds her two cents, "The Swooner was swooning?"

_This conversation needs to end._

As if reading my thoughts, Ito plows through the door and marches, practically stumbling, to his chair. Watching his display, I think he needs to get some exercise or he's gonna fall down dead one morning. Hating myself for being grateful he's such a mess I'm happy his loud entrance has the effect of switching off banter mode, and turning my two friends back into straight-edged, studious pupils. Well, they at least imitate that description while under his gaze.

The test he digs out of his briefcase a few minutes later ensures that I won't have to listen to their tittering for at least until English class. Even as we sit through the test, I can hear Amaya humming, badly, under her breath about _The Swooner_. Friends are awesome at making life's most mortifying moments even more embarrassing. Sitting here, listening to their torturous jabs and stifled giggles, I hope I can return the favor someday soon.

During English, I glance over at Yoko. She's probably more adept at English than Tadao, and it seems like we have a lot in common. However, I don't think I'd be allowed to escape. Perhaps some other day, I decide, I'll skirt across the room and ask if she might allow me a reprieve from the adorable duo behind me; for now, I have to endure their jabs – if only because I sort of deserve them.

Whether I'm happy to see them getting along so well or whether I want to punch them in the face for being so cute, I can't decide. This is a bit like penance, though, since it really is my fault they're like this now. Still, having to suffer their antics feels cruel since I hardly have any way to bite back, but that's what friends are for; committing acts of abject torture. Sentenced to relationship Gitmo, I'm ready to be adorable-boarded.

_And I'm officially the grumpy third wheel; it took less than two days. I'm fast like that, I guess._

When the lunch bell rings, I make a decision. I can't stand watching them anymore, and it has been a while since I checked on the cafeteria food. Maybe they started making edible concoctions instead of substituting the entire pantry with corrugated cardboard and candle wax.

Having brought a lunch with me, I feel like I have all my bases covered, so this equation lacks a wrong answer. After bowing out gracefully, which largely consisted of me running the hell out of there before they could protest, I find my way through the crowds all the way down to the bastion of cliques – otherwise known as the cafeteria.

Looking around, I see the usual groups sitting together. The art club is over by the windows; many of them seem to be in a different room entirely – or another planet, perhaps. The literature club is over near the lunch line; their faces in various books, they periodically cast disdainful glances at the loud students standing in line – as always. I think they sit there so they can look moody without raising suspicion. The track team is by the door; ready to run out when the bell rings. In in the middle, like a pair of mismatched referees, is the Student Council; Deaf-charge and her pink-haired sidekick, Drill Sergeant.

_I'm beginning to embrace that nickname for Shizune._

Realizing I could run out the door without them seeing me, but knowing my luck is never that good, I stare dumbly at them for a few seconds. Misha practically leaps out of her seat and starts waving at me cheerily, beckoning me over. Meanwhile, Shizune sits back in her chair with her legs and arms crossed, wearing a contemplative expression; as though she knew I was going to break my classroom lunch habit. Their mixed reactions make me feel uncomfortable, and, when I notice they don't actually have lunches, I feel even more worried; though I'm not sure why.

_I think I'd rather be facing a Nazi firing squad._

Trying to keep the bewilderment off my face, likely with limited success, I walk over, waving calmly, and sit down across from Misha. Her unreadable, excited expression is unnerving, but now Shizune is grinning like a bobcat. Misha remains eerily silent as Shizune begins signing, [how did the evening go with the new student?]

Seeing her refer to Hisao by the nondescript moniker makes me cringe a little. [Well,] I begin to reply, [he didn't come right out and say it, but he seemed to enjoy himself.] Pointedly keeping my expression neutral, I sign as though I were giving her a financial report.

[Good,] Shizune replies, imitating my neutral expression; though I'm not sure if she's doing so mockingly.

_I'm so glad I came to the cafeteria, really. This isn't awkward at all..._

Leaning toward me, their faces twist into wry smiles. Misha speaks in a loud whisper, "he said you recommended joining the Student Council~!"

Often I've wondered why she doesn't just sign to me in this kind of situation; when there's nobody around who needs to hear the conversation. Happily signing back and forth with Shizune in silence, Misha almost always speaks if there's anyone else in earshot, even if they don't need the audio; I guess it's just a habit she picked up being a translator.

Responding to her statement with a confused look, I don't recall recommending that he join the Student Council; I just said he should try to get along with Shizune.

_Ah, right... Shizune is the Student Council._

Social recommendations have transitive properties. Just a day away from video games and I'm already getting my social legs back, though I'd still rather be in a trench somewhere in Africa with an M1 taking pot-shots at Gestapo. That might be less dangerous than being at this table right about now.

Hearing tapping, I'm broken out of my musing. Turning my gaze at Shizune, I notice she has started signing, [I wanted to thank you; he's decided to join.] She relaxes back in her seat and offers a nod with a confident smirk.

_Wait, what?_

Before I can start digesting that information, or think of a response, I feel a presence next to me; like someone standing over my shoulder blocking the overhead lights. Turning, I see Hisao, looking surprised to see me, carrying three lunches precariously across his arms.

_I knew the lack of lunches worried me._

Placing two of the lunches down in front of Misha and Shizune, he sits down in the seat next to me, pointedly looking anywhere else. I notice him pawing at his sternum again and I don't expect he'll be saying much through this lunch period. I quietly regret that; I rather enjoy the sound of his voice.

_Concentrate, Kurai! This is a war, right?_

Shizune is grinning that bobcat grin again, and I'm starting to think that's her version of maniacal laughter. However, I'm not uncomfortable about Hisao sitting next to me, so I don't feel particularly challenged to say, "hey Swooner, Amaya said you're adorable."

_Why the hell did I say that? I mean, she said it, but why the hell...?_

Having my hands wrapped around my elbows, I didn't sign the statement, so Misha translates to Shizune as I watch a blush spread across Hisao's face. My comment is having the desired effect on Shizune, though I feel bad for torturing him. She flushes a bit as Misha spells out the nickname, and I think I actually see a bead of sweat inching its way down her forehead – it might be a trick of the fluorescent lights.

Smirking, and nudging Misha to silence her translation, she starts signing back, [I'm glad you and your friends have made him feel welcome.] Watching her, I'm somewhat surprised she's blatantly hiding what she's saying from Hisao.

Seeing his perplexed expression, knowing he's used to having Misha relay everything Shizune signs, I decide to do it for her. "Shizune is glad you're adjusting and making friends," I explain, pulling my legs away in expectation of a shin-kick. Remembering that's Amaya's trick, I smile and continue by leaning over to whisper in his ear, "she likes the nickname, I think."

_It's probably true... okay, maybe not._

Shizune scowls, having no idea what I whispered, while Misha glances at me similarly. The baffled expression is close enough to embarrassment that it plays right into my suggestive whisper, and Hisao can't help but laugh a little at her predicament. Grinning cockily, I think I might be better at this than she anticipated. Having just made Shizune look foolish without saying anything important, I feel a little bad for toying with the deaf girl, but she started this war – it's her gauntlet lying in the grass.

_Besides, t__urnabout is fair play._

Misha seems to be catching on to what's happening and her face scrunches up as she speaks, "it's not nice whispering secrets like that, Aiko-chan~!" The slight frown and the crestfallen look in her golden eyes almost makes me feel bad – almost.

_However, "almost only counts in horse-shoes and hand-grenades."_

Nodding apologetically, I do feel a little bit bad since I don't think she'd torture her friends like this, but this is between Shizune and myself. If Shizune wanted Misha to know what was really going on, she would have said something. Glancing over at Hisao, I notice he's looking a little bewildered, so I change the subject. "I hear you joined the Student Council," I say, offering a sweet smile.

Turning to me with a half-smirk, he nods. "Yeah well, your advice made sense, and they've been helping me out, so I figured I'd give it a try," he explains. Only sounds semi-interested, he might have only joined so he would have something to kill time doing. Still, I don't think it's necessarily a bad thing; I can't pretend to be his only friend here. Seeing he stopped rubbing his sternum, I think he'll enjoy working with the dastardly duo; at the very least, he seems to calm down with them around.

_I still feel like I wanna shove a flag in his forehead that says, "Mine -Aiko," though._

As Misha Translates Hisao's affirmation to Shizune, she relaxes visibly. Leveling a triumphant nod at me, Misha translates for her as she signs, "Hicchan will be a welcome asset. Thanks for the en-dorse-ment, Aiko-chan~!"

Still being on the fence about whether it's a good thing, I can't really offer a protest without sounding spiteful, so I decide to be pleasantly cordial. "No problem," I say.

_Not to mention brief._

The rest of the lunch period flies by with considerably less tension. We eat, talk about class, reminisce about the festival a little, while avoiding certain embarrassing topics, and groan about the tests we had to take earlier. Our class got the calculus test in the morning, and Mutou apparently has designs on bringing a science test for the afternoon. Shizune made a point of not discussing the test contents, even though we knew they would be slightly different per class.

We even walk back to class amicably; though Shizune does keep giving me that bobcat grin over her shoulder on the way up the stairs. I'm glad Hisao is making friends and smiling, though, so I can't really stay mad at Shizune. Then again, as much as I may have won the round in the lunchroom, she knows they have the whole afternoon to pluck at Hisao's heart-strings - strategic circumstance.

_Assuming that's what she's doing. I'm still not sure what her end-game is._

Mutou's test goes reasonably well. Science isn't my best subject, but parts of it are math-like, so I get a handle most of it easily enough. After the test, Mutou gets up and lectures about string theory for a while. His excited tone doesn't make it any less boring, but the idea of alternate quantum realities sparks my interest. Listening to his droning lecture, I wonder if the other versions of me are similarly bored; I don't mention that particular theoretical diversion, however.

_I wonder if another version of me had actually gone through with the kiss._

History goes swimmingly until it ends, and the doorway to salvation opens. Leaving briskly, I manage to get ahead of the too-cute couple walking hand-in-hand. Weaving through the halls, I escape into the courtyard and sit down in the shade of a tree. Closing my eyes, I effectively shut out the bustling noises of my classmates' mass exodus.

Considering the events of the past week, I find my mind to be surprisingly clear. The birdsong that always seems to be in the background around Yamaku intensifies as I relax against the tree, and its lulling effect seems amplified. After a few minutes, I feel my breathing start to slow, and I start drifting in and out of consciousness. Soon, the sounds slowly peter out and I'm consumed by sleep.

Not long after, I snap my head up and look around to find the courtyard is empty. Feeling a little disoriented, I look around and wonder at the time. My watch reads, "5:13 pm."

_Did I just fall asleep here for over two hours?_

Groggily, I stand up and stretch into a yawn. Blowing out a sigh, I start heading for my dorm; I realize I'll probably be in for another sleepless night, but I'm comfortable with that by now. Insomnia is something one adapts to over time - like prison. During vacations, I often sleep like a cat; short periods of sleep followed by short periods of waking, short periods of lounging and then more sleep. My mother used to call me _Kitten_ because of it – most people thought it was just a random term of endearment.

_I miss my mom, I should give her a call._

As suspected, once I return to my room, I'm unable to sleep. I find myself sitting up at my desk, staring blankly at my laptop, droning my way through the rest of the British campaign. Hearing Amaya creep back to her room after curfew, I consider bothering her about it, but I think it can wait. Sometime around two in the morning, I crawl into bed and slip into unconscious bliss.

_I forgot to call my mom...I'll neglect to tell her that._


End file.
